A Day in Our Life
by 4cherryblossoms
Summary: Ch.43: 'It's the time of year when the world falls in love... and this song of mine, in three-quarter time, wishes you and yours the same thing too." - A collection of one-shots/drabbles on Roy, Riza, and the rest of the gang.
1. Chopsticks

_**Cherry: **Hello! Okay, this is my first time to attempt making a one-shot/drabble collection of sorts, so... yeah. As said from the summary, it's basically random events from Roy and Riza's life. Haha. Just random stuff that pop into my mind. Some are based from my own experiences, and some are just plain random. Haha!_

_Oh yeah. In my next updates, please don't be surprised if in one chapter Roy becomes Fuhrer and then on the next he's a Colonel again. Haha! I wrote these fics without chronology in mind. These were made for fun and fandom. XD_

_I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing! :D_

_--*sings* I want nobody, nobody, but you! *clap clap* *points at Roy—I mean, FMA* *clap* Ugh, never mind. I don't own it. Haha!_

* * *

**Chopsticks**

--

_**The Central Times**_

_**Fuhrer Celebrates Amestris-Xing Friendship Day with Xing Emperor**_

_The Fuhrer, General Roy Mustang, along with his personal entourage paid a visit to the country of Xing last week. In commemoration of the Amestrian-Xingese cooperative program initiated by the Fuhrer early in his term, he set off on a journey to Xing to get to know the country and its people more._

_As far as his entourage is concerned, sources say that the hand-picked companions of the Fuhrer include his right-hand woman and personal assistant, Colonel Riza Hawkeye, the Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric and his brother Alphonse Elric, renowned automail mechanic Winry Rockbell, the Strong-Arm Alchemist Major General Alex Louis Armstrong, and military personnel Lieutenant Colonel Jean Havoc, Lieutenant Colonel Heymans Breda, Major Vato Falman and Captain Kain Fuery._

_From an interview with the Fuhrer, he has stated that the Xingese culture is indeed rich and vibrant. After the said trip, he has shown interest in alkahestry, the Xing equivalent of alchemy. (Continued on page 2)_

--

"They could've chosen a better picture." Roy commented. He had just returned from the said trip to Xing, and his weariness from the journey was evident on his face. He sat behind his desk, reading the day's paper, when he suddenly comes across a page spread with a few photographs from the trip (courtesy of Fuery). "Really, why did Fuery give that photo anyway?" He was irritated. It wasn't like it was _that_ embarrassing though. It just so happened to be a picture of him fiddling with chopsticks while everyone was happily eating. It wasn't embarrassing at all; it was…

"But it was just a photograph of everyone eating," Riza reasoned out, trying to make Roy think of it lightly. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, sir." Roy shifted his view from the paper to her face; he did not look pleased. She didn't understand what the fuss was all about. Roy opened his mouth as if to speak, but quickly decided against it. He sighed instead, folding up the paper into its original two partitions, and then halving it, making it smaller. He carelessly plopped the newsprint onto the edge of his desk, alongside other documents that he had already finished reading.

Roy sighed. "You don't get it, do you, Colonel?" He slumped into his seat. _It may have just been a photograph of everyone eating, but it's… just. My pride! It's hurt; the whole population of Amestris will see before their very eyes, how the Fuhrer, the man who is supposed to lead their country and be all-knowing, cannot handle a pair of stupid chopsticks. Damn chopsticks. Why didn't they just use spoons and forks instead?!_

"I'm afraid I don't, sir." Riza replied. "But I'd be willing to listen to your side, if it makes you feel better." After working with this man for so many years, Riza has already learned the ways to dealing with his moods. In fact, she could as well as write a book about it. "_A Dummy's Guide to Dealing with Roy Mustang"—_But that would be a different story.

* * *

It was July 4th, three days before the anniversary of Amestris and Xing's Friendship. It had been two years now, since both parties' consensus on keeping a friendship and cooperative with each country. Amestris was to help Xing, and Xing was to help Amestris—be it military service or anything else; something—anything friends would do. So it was like that. On the first year of the Amestrian-Xingese friendship, it was the Emperor who visited Amestris. Of course, I had to show him around—though he had already stepped foot on the country some time ago, it was only proper to give him a formal tour. He was pleased, and so was I.

This year, it was I, on behalf of Amestris, who visited our friends at Xing. It was a rather tiring journey—imagine having to cross the desert! If it weren't for my companions and the thought of representing Amestris, I would've… actually, no, it isn't like me to just die off in the desert, right? I've been through worse--anyway, we were warmly welcomed by the Xingese people. We were taken to the capital, where the Emperor resides.

Will you believe me if I told you that Ling kid from before—yes, that one who eventually became Greed—finally became the Emperor? Well, Fullmetal couldn't believe it at first either. It came as a surprise for everyone, I guess.

Ling of the Yao clan was the Emperor of Xing. He still had his men (and woman) old Fu and Ranfan with him, just as I had Riza and everyone else. He ordered his subjects to give us a change of clothes, despite us bringing our own; the clothes were made of silk, I believe. A few hours before dinner, we had the chance to go around the city. Xing was definitely vibrant and lively, and judging from the architecture and surroundings, they still keep pride in their history and traditions.

We got back to the Imperial Palace by sunset, and as expected from the Emperor (and Ling himself), dinner was a feast. Hundreds of dishes were served, consisting of only the best in the Xingese cuisine. Seafood, beef, pork, chicken, vegetables, rice, soup—everything! There was such a wide variety that I couldn't even remember what the dishes were called.

"Wow, I've never seen so much food since I got my body back," Alphonse said happily, eying all the different dishes that lay in front of him. "I wonder which one I should try first~" He was ecstatic; after all, it had been years since he last tasted food, and one or two years of getting his body back still has not compensated for the time lost. Fullmetal, on the other hand, said no words; he went ahead and put on his plate all his short arms could reach. ("What 'short arms' are you talking about?!")

As with Alphonse, I wondered which ones I should try as well. I would've decided quickly, if only it weren't for those damned chopsticks. Really, now that I think about it, I should have just stabbed them like barbeque.

_Do you not know that I am a Fuhrer?! Why aren't you following me?! I'm hungry, please let me eat. Damn. What you want me to do?!_ Oh yes, I was fiddling with them. It was hard to keep the food between those two sticks. How did they do it?! It was rather embarrassing, seeing as I was seated between Ling and Riza. Ling—he's the Emperor; I fail to impress at this. And he's younger than me—he's just around Fullmetal's age! And yet I, an adult, fail to use such seemingly simple device called chopsticks. And Riza—well. Let's not talk about that.

She must've noticed I haven't eaten yet, and my plate was rather sloppy with now crushed up pieces of uneaten food. Her next move came as a surprise to me. _She's not… no, she is! Waah~ Riza, thank you!_ She picked up a small dumpling (I think that was what it was) with her chopsticks and held it up to me. It was such a tasty looking little dumpling; small, round and plump, wrapped in translucent, thin wheat skin. If my memory serves me right, it was filled with steaming hot shrimp—oh, no, not Fullmetal, that would be disgusting!—I mean real shrimp. _That's nice; feeding me. I feel loved._

I was in doubt at first; it seemed too good to be true. However, she did not show any sign of insincerity. And besides, Riza was never dishonest. "Aah~" It was very delicious, as expected.

"There really should be some Xingese restaurants in Amestris!" I exclaim; I must have been smiling pretty widely at that moment (I'll leave it to you to think why I was very happy). "Well, the chopsticks are a problem, but… really, there should be some Xingese restaurants in Amestris. What do you think, Colonel Hawkeye? I should decree it or something when we get back!" I fiddled with the chopsticks again, eager to get another bite out of the wonderful cuisine. I wasn't getting any luck.

And Riza was ever so kind to hold out another piece of dumpling to me. I opened my mouth again, ready to devour the tasty little treat. It was inching closer and closer to me. I can almost feel it, smell it, _taste_ it—

Oh, she moved her chopsticks. And on impulse, I follow—my mouth open, waiting for the taste of food. Heh, that's what hunger can do, even to someone like me. She moved it again, to the opposite direction this time. Now up; down. The dumpling was going around in circles—so was I. I must've looked pathetic.

It stopped; Riza smirked—_heh?_ And she ate it. _Damn._

And then there was applause and laughter. Oh yes, Riza is a comedienne.

* * *

"Oh, I'm sorry about that, sir." Riza said, suppressing her laughter. "It's just that—sorry." Roy kept a straight face; remembering the whole experience just made him feel all the more displeased. "But you did manage to learn to use chopsticks soon afterwards, right, sir?"

_True, I did get to use the damned chopsticks eventually. But still._ "Yes, I suppose you're right." And with that, he dismissed the topic, as Riza went off to get his pending paperwork. He silently awaited her return, fingers wrapped around two pens, holding them as if they were- _Chopsticks. Geh._

おわり。

* * *

_This was written around the time I was about to take the biggest, most important and life-changing college entrance exam in my life. Haha. So I think that's why my imagination has gone on crack or something._

_Sorry if I went OOC somewhere. And.. yeah. For the weirdness. If any. Haha! I hope you liked it, nonetheless._

_Reviews inspire me to study. 8D_

_~Cherry_

* * *


	2. Office Armory

_Dedicated to one of my best friends and co-writers, Princess Pechay Sush. Thanks for the "remove by frixion" discovery! Haha! And to my classmate/friend, who I will hide under the name "Ling 3.0" because he resembles Ling in a way—thanks for lending me and Pechay your Frixion pen. It was the inspiration for this story. Although I know you won't be able to read this because the only people you know in FMA are Ed and Al, thank you! Haha!_

* * *

"_To hold a pen is to be at war."_

* * *

**Office Armory**

_30 July 2009_

_0913H  
__I live in such an idiotic environment. I am amazed that I am still alive and sane._

_0929H  
__I am not distracted. Nope. I am so focused. Yes, Riza Hawkeye is very focused. She will not get distracted with the constant, irritating scratching of Roy's pen against paper._

_0932H  
__I am distracted._

* * *

Who knew that even Riza Hawkeye's thoughts were organized?

Eyes closed, she took deep breaths; it was a calming technique. _Breathe in, breathe out._ She did this every so often, just to take her mind away from the distracting noises of the all-male (besides her) office. This isn't an everyday occurrence, fortunately for her. However, it can be really nerve-racking when it does. It was just one of those days that Roy either found himself so bored (despite the mountains of paperwork waiting for him) that he would just scribble away—Riza didn't pay much attention to that at times—or he was having issues today. _One. Two._ She counted off in her mind, hoping that by three, it would stop. But of course, it only remains a hope, a wish, a dream; never reality. _Three._

"Is there anything wrong, sir?" Riza asked, her voice ringing out in the small office, amidst the sounds of flipping pages and scratching pens. The other inhabitants of the room turned to look at her; the only time she ever spoke whilst at work was because something bothers her. Riza had always been the silent, diligent, and efficient worker after all.

Roy didn't hear her. He was too distracted with mentally cursing his pen. _Damn you._ His pen refused to let out its ink. It must have dried out. _Damn. _He scribbled his signature furiously on the page, waiting—rather impatiently—for the black liquid to come out. Still, no matter how many times he signed, there was nothing there, but probably a hundred marks of un-inked signatures.

_0942H  
__I swear, one more signature and that document will tear._

All hope was lost; Roy leaned on his desk, arms outstretched. Dangling from his fingers was his treasured fountain pen, which, at this crucial moment, betrayed him. He soon lost his grip on it, the pen falling to the floor with a soft clang. "My beloved pen with which I have shared my life's frustrations, why—why have you forsaken me?" He mumbled.

Hearing his words, Riza—as quickly and as silently as she could—rummaged through her desk drawers in search of a spare pen. Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc however, beat her to it. "Colonel," he started, as he stood from his seat. "If you'd like, I could lend you my pen."

Roy looked up at the friendly offer. "Ah. Thank you, Havoc." He remarked as the lieutenant handed him the pen. It wasn't like his original—it was a ball-point pen—but it would have to suffice. With that, the office quickly resumed their work—only to avoid Hawkeye's menacing glares if they did otherwise. Riza sighed in relief that the Colonel was finally back to work.

_1004H  
__Thank goodness everyone's working now. It is a big job to watch over the Colonel by himself; what more if I had to make sure all these guys did their work? It's a good thing they're all being diligent today._

Dozens of documents and a hundred signatures later, the room emptied itself of its occupants. Despite the office's hushed atmosphere, there was a chorus of stomach rumbles being forced into a silent retreat. The moment the clock struck 1200H, the men took their leave; all with the Colonel's hasty acknowledgement as he seemed all too caught up with his paperwork.

"It's time for lunch now, sir." Riza said, the instant she and Roy were alone in the office. For a moment, she stood there, by his desk, watching him with smiling eyes. It wasn't everyday that he was so focused on his work. However, she did worry about him; it wasn't good to miss any meal.

Finally processing her words—which took some time to register in his mind as he was seemingly reading the documents—he looked up at her. "You go on ahead, Lieutenant." And with that, he went back to his work. Riza nodded and promptly headed for the door. She said things about not forgetting to eat his lunch before closing the door behind her, to which Roy constantly nodded in reply.

_1234H  
__Lunch break is half through. I wonder if he's still working._

_1249H  
__There must be something wrong with him. Imagine, Roy Mustang: working and finishing his paperwork, not complaining, and he didn't even bother to come and eat lunch today. Very strange. I should check his temperature later._

Riza Hawkeye walked back to the office, only to find it empty. The chair behind the Colonel's desk was pushed back, the papers sprawled all over the desk, all except the growing pile at the edge of it. In the midst of the flood of black and white, a single document stood out. It was situated at the very top of the mess, held down only by the gravity of the pen above it. Curious, Riza carefully took the document and examined its… writings, much to her shock and disappointment.

_1301H  
__After all this time that I believed he was working so diligently, finally getting the urge to do his work, finally stepping up to his responsibilities—he gives me this._

Riza froze in her spot; the sheet of paper—crisp, white and loaded with important military information—was covered in ink. Roy's handwriting was all over the page, splashing it with words, names, alchemical symbols, transmutation circles, tiny road maps, calculations of who-knows-what…

"Care to explain?"

Anger, annoyance, irritation—these were all evident in her tone; Roy smiled sheepishly as he entered the office once again, returning from a short necessity break. Well, who wouldn't be annoyed when a superior officer—one who is supposed to set the example, be the better one, be the inspiration for the lowerclassmen—is the one who draws little chibified characters that look like his subordinates. "I'm pretty good at drawing, eh? I think I drew you very well." He remarked, trying to save face. He pointed at the bottom edge of the document, where indeed, was a sketch of someone supposed to be Hawkeye—bangs, pulled-up hair, straight face and all. If one took a closer look, a tiny-sized caption was written: _Please do your paperwork, sir._ Easier said than done.

Riza was not pleased.

_1305H  
__I could shoot him, right here, right now._

"But look, look!" Roy said, scurrying over to Riza's side. He took the paper, lay it down on the desk, and proceeded to _erase_ the scribbles he had done. "See, I discovered something while you were all out for lunch. It is the most amazing thing—Havoc's pen is a miracle!" True enough, as he rubbed at the inked drawings, it "miraculously" disappeared. "See? I used a pen, right?"—Riza nodded slightly, albeit dead-pan. "And a pen uses ink, right?" Another nod. "And ink cannot be erased, right?" A nod again. "But lo and behold! This pen's ink can be erased!" And he furiously rubbed at the paper, erasing all his "inked" drawings, revealing the true document once again, although now a bit crumpled and creased.

Riza's grim expression ceased, her lips curving up to a smile. "How… innovative." She commented. There was a tinge of mischief in her grin, but it went by unnoticed. She went to pick up all his finished paperwork, examining the signatures he had done. "I'd hate to burst your bubble, sir," she started, as she flipped through the papers. "But seeing that this ink could be erased—" At this point, Roy's smile dropped, his face filling with dread as the Lieutenant's next statement rose in his conscious. "I'm afraid you'll have to repeat signing these papers—using a normal pen with inerasable ink."

She placed the papers on his desk once again, with Roy sluggishly making his way back to his seat. Now he had twice the work to finish—to erase the ink and to sign it again. _Oh great._ Riza handed him a new pen—this time, her own—flashing him a soft, yet obviously triumphant smile.

_1327H  
__Tally of Scores as of 30 July 2009:  
__Riza – 2  
__Roy – 0_

Roy shot daggers through his eyes, his glare intense at the humongous pile of paperwork sitting on his desk. Silently declaring war, his grip on the pen tightened as he begun his work.

_To hold a pen is to be at war._

おわり。_

* * *

_

_Yay! An update! Haha. Thank you so much to all those who have read and reviewed the first chapter! I really appreciate all your comments. And being added to your favorites and alert list—waaaaah. I feel so happy. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!_

_Hmm. The usual: sorry for any weirdness, OOC-ness, or anything._

_My brain is half-dead from thinking about my college application forms, Royai, my pending research paper, Royai, the recently finished exams at school, Royai, the party I'm going to tomorrow, Royai, going to sleep… oh, did I mention Royai?_

_Haha. Royai really kills brain cells. XD  
__But I like them, nonetheless. Hahaha!_

_Thanks again, minna!_

_~Cherry_


	3. I'd Lie

**I'd Lie**

_Central City: partial cloudiness early, with scattered showers and thunderstorms in the afternoon. Winds are light and variable. Chance of rain, 50%  
__East City: showers and thunderstorms likely, especially in the late afternoon to evening, with 75% chance of rain._

What a lie the weather forecast seemed to be. The sky was clear of clouds; instead, the clouds were replaced with the bright sun, mercilessly shining upon Central City. A myriad of cars and other vehicles lined the roads, sitting noisily amid the scorching heat and the almost non-moving traffic. Beads of sweat were already forming on Colonel Mustang's forehead, and all he did was to sit in the military-owned vehicle. Intense heat, slow-moving traffic, noisy horn-honking—it was giving him a migraine. He sighed; what was he doing in the middle of traffic at a time like this? Lunch hour had just finished, and he was suddenly called out of the office, all because of a little young alchemist he so-fondly called "Fullmetal."

"Really, that kid," He mumbled, watching as the car in front inched forward. "He's always doing things his own way, always causing trouble." It seems that the older one of the Elric brothers found himself in the hospital once again with more than a few scratches and wounds (which were intensified with a certain blonde mechanic's rampage on his once again severely damaged automail).

"It may be a phase, sir," Lieutenant Hawkeye commented, breaking her gaze away from the unmoving traffic. "He's a growing teen; he probably wants to try being independent—though I believe he and Alphonse have been independent since they started their journey."

_Growing?_ He stifled a laugh. "I guess so. He should be grateful I took the time to visit him." They could have taken the train, but then again, not having been able to get tickets to Resembool must have been a sign—the trains were down by lunch. He sighed; with this traffic, getting to Resembool will probably take ages—well, probably till the evening, at most—and that meant Roy would have to deal with twice as much work the next day and he would most likely have to put off his dating expeditions (not that these mattered though). "Looks like I won't be getting a day off anytime soon at this rate, eh, Lieutenant?" He asked jokingly.

"Most likely, sir," She replied. The cars have started moving now—finally. Hands on the wheel, she eased the car forward, only to come at a stop once again. "No dates until you finish your paperwork." She added, just to poke fun at him.

Roy's response came as a surprise to her though. "Yes, mother." He laughed. Riza's eyes narrowed at the name-calling, but no sooner than a second, laughed as well. It did sound like a mother's lecturing—_No games until you finish your homework!_

"Colonel," Riza said after a few moments of silence between them. A question had been itching to be asked for some time now; she would have let it sink into the back of her mind as she usually did, but at this moment, she could not help herself. This was a golden opportunity. "May I ask something? Although… it's not that important, but—"

"Go ahead, Lieutenant." Roy smiled.

"Never mind. It don't mean to get into your privacy," she stopped herself, eyes fixed upon the road ahead of them. They were moving now, albeit in a slow pace. Roy simply looked at her, with eyes as if pressing her to continue. _Curiosity killed the cat, Riza. Pity the poor cats; Alphonse will be sad if they die._ She sighed.

"It's all right. I don't mind, really."

_Fine then. You asked for it._ "I was just curious about… your dates."

"My dates?" Riza wasn't a sharp shooter with guns alone; she was a sharp question-shooter too, if such thing exists. Roy was taken by surprise. _Why is she asking this, all of a sudden?_ Alarms seem to have gone off in his head; _An enemy assault! Direct hit! Soldier down! Soldier down!_

"Yes, sir," Riza replied. _Ah. It's a direct hit._

"What about them?" He asked, trying to muster up the most nonchalant, non-caring tone he could. Well, he didn't really know what to answer her. What must he say?

"Did you ever like them?" She asked. _The enemy forces are weakening. We are near the base._ "Seriously, I mean."

"I liked them," _Headquarters, we need reinforcements!_ "I doubt I'll fall in love with them though." _Prudence! Oh no, we have been spotted by the enemy! _He ran his hand through his hair, tension at his fingertips. He was never the type to talk about love—nor was Riza, which came as a bigger surprise.

_We have spotted them; prepare to fire in case of assault. _"Why?" _Fire!_

Who knew such short question, that three letter word, could become the downfall of the Mustang army. _Enemy engaged fire! Retreat! Retreaaat!_ "W-why? Hmm. I wonder." _Run for your lives! Save the women and children! Actually, just save the women._ He turned to look at her, a straight face worn like a mask; behind the expression hid many questions—she had tons of ammo. "Because… there's someone else?"

_Ah. The enemy troops are retreating? What's this?_ "Really. So you haven't dated her?" _Don't give up just yet; the war isn't over._ _Charge!_ The Hawkeye troops are really persistent.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't. It's taboo."

"It's taboo to go on a date? That's new."

"It's taboo to go on a date with her."

"Have you told her you… like—love—her?"

"No."

"It's taboo?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

_A peace treaty? The war has ended. May all of the soldiers who have died in the course of this war be forever remembered. May peace reign between the countries once again._

There was silence between them. They were moving Eastward now, on a fairly quicker speed compared to earlier. Riza looked straight ahead, her view focused on the road. Roy looked out the window, watching the other cars and the surroundings buzz past them. Making mental notes not to talk about such sensitive and awkward topic again, the two continued on their trip to Resembool.

The sky was already getting darker the farther east they went. The sun almost completely covered with rainclouds, and the wind blowing lightly. _It's not going to rain, is it?_

"Say you really loved someone, but you weren't allowed to," Roy spoke, breaking the long silence between them. "And people asked you about it… what would you do?" He looked at her, half eager and hopeful to hear an answer, and yet half-knowing she may not respond. He tried to scan her face of emotions, but as usual, she kept it straight and serious.

"I'd lie, sir."

つづく。_

* * *

Weird. My brain was drained after trying to write my article for the school magazine. Haha. Oh well.  
__I promise, the next chapter is better! I think._

_Anyway, this chapter and the next chapter are quite… connected._

_T__his is very random. VERY._

_This drabble was inspired by Taylor Swift's "I'd Lie"._

_My brain is dead. Again. Haha. I'm hungry. XD_

_Feed me with reviews~ Haha._

_Thank you everyone! :3_

_~Cherry_

* * *

_**Roy:**__ What was that about? =__=  
__**Cherry: **__Sorry, my brain died.  
__**Roy:**__ (sighs) Please don't write fanfiction while your brain is dead.  
__**Cherry:**__ I can't help it. I neeeed to get it out of my mind. New ideas aren't entering my mind if I don't let the old ones out!  
__**Roy: **__=__=  
__**Cherry:**__ Seriously. I space out because of it. Ugh.  
__**Roy: **__Then stop writing fanfiction and focus on your life!  
__**Cherry:**__ THIS IS MY LIFE!  
__**Riza:**__ (shoots gun through my brain) Maybe this could help rearrange your brain cells.  
__**Cherry:**__ /(TwT)\ Thank you. I shall transmute my brain cells now.  
__**Roy and Riza: **__(=_=ll) She's lost it._


	4. Pocket

**Pocket**

A soft-blowing wind swayed the tree's branches, causing the sunlight to stream in through the car windows. It was morning, and last night's gloomy weather was replaced with a smiling sun. In the middle of a grassy meadow stood a tree, sturdy and tall; its branches stretched out towards the vivid blue sky. Far out into the field were herds of sheep, grazing on the lush grass.

A peaceful and calm countryside; none of the city hustle and bustle—this is the perfect description of Eastern Amestris. However, something seemed out of place. Sitting nearby the mighty tree was a vehicle—one of those used by the State Military, to be precise. No, a war was not going on. The country is peaceful, to say the least.

_Baa. Baa._ A woman stirred in the driver's seat, awoken by the sounds of the grazing sheep. She sat upright, her eyes half-open. Her long blonde hair was quite tousled; she tucked a few stray strands behind her ear and rubbed her eyes. The black coat covering her body fell to her lap, revealing her blue military uniform. Two stars—a lieutenant. She turned to her companion—a man, who wore the same uniform as she did, although his shoulders were adorned with three stars, instead of two. The Colonel rested his head on his palm, leaning against the window.

* * *

"We'd better make a stop over, Lieutenant." He said, his voice trying to compete with the thunder's loud rumble and the rain's pitter-patter upon the metal of the car. It was raining heavily that evening, making it harder to see the road ahead of them. The thought of having to delay their trip further and the sound of the pouring rain made his mood sour. He tried, however, to keep it in.

The lieutenant nodded. It would be very difficult to go on with this weather, especially at night. She turned the steering wheel, parking the car at the edge of the roadside—at a spot where the field met the dirt road. It was near midnight, and the sky that evening showed no signs of clearing up. Being miles away from the next town, they had no choice but to spend the night there.

A heavy sigh came from the dark haired man as the Lieutenant turned off the car engine. He looked out the rain-splashed window. The two spoke no words; only the sound of the rain was heard. Despite being dry inside the car, the Colonel looked as if he was soaked to the skin—his spirits dampened by the not-so-good weather.

After long minutes filled with silence, he finally spoke. "Sorry I had to drag you out this late, Lieutenant Hawkeye." He did not look at her; his eyes remained fixed at the rain drops against the window. As a new drop plants itself upon the glass, it drags down other droplets with it, making an even bigger raindrop. He traced the raindrop's trail with his eyes; there was nothing better to do.

"It's all right, sir." She replied. As he watched the rain outside, she watched him. His arms were crossed against his chest; his back leaned against the passenger seat. Both of them silently half wished for the rain to stop, so as they could continue on to their destination, and yet half wished for it to go on. Although that meant they had to endure more hours of silence, hunger and probably even boredom.

"I guess," he said, after a few moments. "At least we could take a rest. But I do wish we brought food." The two shared a short moment of light laughter, which faded away to the sounds of the rain once again. It was deep into the evening now, and both were tired from the day's journey—driving all the way from Central to the East was no joke. They could've taken the train, however, the trip was rather sudden—they were not able to get train tickets.

Silence fell upon them once again. They only exchanged sighs and yawns as the minutes turned to hours and it got closer to midnight. "If you wish to sleep, go ahead, Lieutenant. It's late." He yawned, as he noticed the tiredness of the lady beside him. Despite her silence, he knew it was there. Of course, as a superior officer, he must take care of his subordinates. It's like repaying loyalty with protection and care, you could say. He gave her a weak smile, as he too, was getting heavy-eyed.

"Thank you, sir," she mumbled. She sank into her seat silently, and closed her tired eyes. "You should get some sleep as well. Good night, Colonel." She remarked before surrendering herself to the call of sleep. He nodded, although he knew she wouldn't see him. It did not take long until she finally succumbed to sleep, her breaths deep and steady.

He would have gone to sleep too, if only he was not watching her. He found it amusing how this person sleeping beside him was the stern, straight-faced, serious, no-nonsense, and sometimes even "scary" lieutenant he knew. This Riza was different; the sleeping figure before him reminded him of their youth, the times he had studied under her father, and the first impressions of innocence and vulnerability. Who knew that seemingly fragile young girl would become one of the sharpest snipers, and one of the feared officers at work because of her strict discipline and diligence? No one.

The rain continued to pour heavily, bringing with it a harsh, chilling wind. It had been there all throughout, but deemed unnoticed until now. In a swift and silent movement, he took his coat and laid it on her, careful as not to wake her up. He leaned his head on his hand, resting it by the car window, before closing his eyes and retreating for the night. _Good night, Lieutenant._

* * *

Slowly, silently, she moved to open the car window, letting the cool breeze in, allowing it to play with her let-loose hair. Wondering where her hair clip had gone to, she cautiously looked around the car—in her seat, on the floor—but to no avail. Riza took the black coat into her arms, figuring the lost possession may be underneath the piece of clothing. It was not there, however, she felt a certain weight hold the coat down. She stuck her hand into one of the pockets and smiled. With a hand closed around hers, she leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes.

_I guess sleeping in for a bit wouldn't hurt. _She had found what she was looking for.

おわり。

* * *

_Okay, probably didn't end the way I wanted it to. Haha. _

_Actually, this is supposed to be a songfic to Colbie Caillat's "Bubbly"—hence the events of being "awake" ("I've been awake for a while now"), the rain ("The rain is falling on my window pane, but we are hiding in a safer place"), and the whole making her smile thing—whatever. Haha. Yeah. Anyway, it was originally supposed to be based from "Bubbly". But then I found translations for Otsuka Ai's "Pocket", which stated stuff like "Our hands secretly held together within your pocket is so that nobody else will know; secretly, our love deepened", and the last line in the song which went, "Because I'll always be by your side"-- I thought it fits the whole Royai thing and the ending of this drabble. Haha! So yeah. Based on two songs._

_And I used Riza's hair clip as an excuse to get her hand into the coat pocket. 8D I'm such a loser._

_Haha. Oh dear. What a drabble. XD_

_Thanks again to everyone who reviewed and such! I LOVE YOU ALL! 3_

_~Cherry_

_P.S. And if ever you're wondering what the last sentence meant (I intentionally wrote it in such a way that it could have multiple meanings), it's basically that (1) she found the hair clip in the pocket, (2) seeing as she mentioned sleeping in, and Roy wasn't awake, it meant getting another break for a few moments, (3) an undisturbed, quiet, peaceful moment with Roy __(all to herself)__ without worrying about formalities._


	5. Family

_Spoilers for some chapters in the manga. I can't remember which ones though. Haha. I'm sorry! But I suggest that if you haven't reached the part about Hughes (around episode 10 of FMA: Brotherhood), then GO WATCH/READ the anime/manga!! Now!_

_But if you don't mind spoilers, then read on! Douzo._

* * *

**Family**

Years have passed since the world's loss of a great man. A family man, more than anything else. He was a man who loved his family and supported his friends, a man who lived with a positive outlook, one who sought not power or glory, but happiness. The world he left has changed greatly since then. The questions had been answered, and peace and order was once again restored. It may not be permanent as of yet, but it was something worth mentioning. The goals have been reached, and well, everyone seemed happy and content. If only he were alive to see it. "Brigadier General Maes Hughes," a middle aged man sighed. He was in full uniform; four stars adorned each of his shoulders—the General.

A lot has happened since then. Finally, he has reached his goal. Other than his achievement of becoming the state's Fuhrer, he has gained numerous other things. One of the greatest was his own family. As he stood there, in front of his great friend's resting place, the tears threatened to fall again; just as the first time he set foot on the spot. _It can't be raining again. I'll be useless if it rains._ The memories seemed to flash one by one into his mind. The Ishbal war, the researches regarding the Philosopher's Stones and the higher-ups, even to the things like his constant bragging about his beautiful wife or his cute daughter, which proved to be, despite being quite trivial, the exact thing that made up his character. It was what kept his memory so vivid in the people he left. How he would always use the military lines to simply brag about his daughter, or how he bombards everyone with photos of his family. The hard working, positively charged man was no longer with them, but he was alive still, in their hearts.

* * *

"_Oh? Is it all over?" Maes poked his head out of the edge of a wall. A fight had ensued between Scar and a couple of military men, specifically, the Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric, the Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang, and the Strong-Arm Alchemist Alex Armstrong. The latter asked where he had been. "I was in hiding!" Came his reply._

"_You're supposed to provide back-up!" Roy retorted._

"_A normal guy like me isn't going to be part of some "Believe it or Not" episode with nutcases like you guys!"_

---

"_Because!" Maes said into the receiver, his smile reached from ear to ear. "My daughter is going to be three years old!" The person he was talking to did not seem at all pleased though._

"_Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," Roy spoke, exasperatedly. "I am busy at work right now." And true enough, he is. What with his subordinates waiting for him with paperwork._

"_Fancy that. I'm busy at work too!" He was leaning against the cubicle, his smile unfaltering. "It's just that she's soooo cute every single day!"_

"_I get it, so don't call me all the time to brag about your daughter each time!" Roy replied. "And not with a military line!"_

"_Not just my daughter! I'm proud of my wife too!"_

"_I wonder if there's a way to fry a person over the phone with alchemy, Hughes."_

---

"_There's a rumor that a certain Colonel Mustang is about to be assigned to Central."_

_Hughes' words this time, brought a smile to Roy's face. "Central, eh? Not bad."_

"_Be careful. Getting too far into the upper ranks at that age means you'll be making more enemies."  
_"_I'm prepared for that."  
_"_Be sure to get at least one more person who would understand and support you," His tone was serious. Roy listened intently. "So hurry up and get married."  
_"_DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!!"_

"_Colonel, please be quiet when you're talking on the phone." Riza Hawkeye commented, as Roy hung up; the receiver landing with a clang onto its hook._

* * *

Memories. "I knew it would rain," Roy looked up at the vivid blue sky. Contrary to his statement, it was a perfectly fine day. Of course, he didn't really talk about the weather. Tears rolled down his cheek as it was back then, but he wiped them away before anyone caught sight of him. A leader must not show any sign of weakness, after all. But he was human, and he did need to cry once in a while. Thoughts always conflicted with each other like this.

"Daddy…?" he felt a small tug at the edge of his uniform. A little girl stood beside him; she had hair just as dark as his, and her dark brown eyes looked at him with great concern. He bent down and took hold of her hand, fatherly. They spoke no words further, but he knew what she wanted to ask. He simply smiled in response. The sort of smile he gave when talking about the people he cared about.

Father and daughter slowly walked away from the tombstone, heading towards a woman and two little boys; his wife and his sons.

* * *

"Hey, Hughes," Roy Mustang mused as he sat behind his desk. He had no need to worry whether or not anyone heard him talking to nothing; after all, he had the office to himself. He smiled as he took one of the framed photographs on his desk. Amid the numerous photographs of Roy and his friends and subordinates, despite all were his treasures, this one had the people he prized the most in his life. The people in the image had all smiles; a beautiful blonde-haired woman, and in her arms, a little boy, who seemed to have inherited her features. And then there was Roy, and a son identical to himself. At the center was their only daughter; dark hair like the father, brown eyes like the mother.

"I took your advice. I have a wonderful family now too." Seeing his family's smiles, it was at that moment that he finally understood what Maes Hughes felt all those times. It was something that couldn't be bought with money, or be satisfied by power or rank—it was love and happiness.

おわり。

* * *

_Heh. Okay yay~ Another one-shot drabble whatever. Haha!!_

_I wanted to write something about Hughes. I love Hughes. He's the first character I really liked in Hagaren. Haha! [Damn, why did he have to die so soon?!] Aaand.. I wanted to write something about family. Since Hughes brags so much about his family… I thought maybe I could squeeze in some Royai even while talking about Hughes. Haha! The family I had in mind was… based from this Royai fanart I saw somewhere. I think on photobucket. XD_

_Is this allowed? Haha. I mean, you know. I just narrated some scenes in the manga. Straight from the manga, that is. Well, the dialogue. Anyway. It was simply to point out that Roy was reminiscing the times with Maes. So yeah. Hahahahahaaaaa. o_o_

_That'll be it. See ya~_

_Reviews are loved as usual._

_~Cherry_

* * *

_**Hughes: **Ah. Good times, eh?  
**Roy:** She killed you so early. T__T And this story is like rubbing salt on open wounds.  
**Cherry:** Hey, I made you Fuhrer. Be grateful. 8D  
**Roy:** Rubbing salt on open wounds... ;____;  
**Cherry:** Get a grip, dammit. If Hughes were really dead, he wouldn't be talking to you right now. Unless you're dead too. But then that would mean that if I'm talking to both of you, I'm also dead! That, or I'm a medium. :O  
**Roy: **Are you sure you're a medium? I think you're a small.  
**Ed:** WHAT SMALL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!__  
**Hughes:** He wasn't talking about you, Edward.  
**Ed:** Oh. (calms down)  
**Roy:** Yeah, you're in the same size--Cherry and Fullmetal.  
**Cherry:** I'm in the same size as Ed! Yay~ (sparkles)  
**Ed: **I'M NOT SMALL!  
**Cherry:** Actually, in my local clothes store, I'm extra small. 8D  
**Ed: **I'M NOT EXTRA SMALL!! (at wits end)  
**Izumi and Riza:** The world has gone mad. (nods)_


	6. Confidential Controversy

**Confidential Controversy**

I rarely come to Headquarters. And I would never come to Headquarters just to visit the Colonel. Well, not that I planned to visit. It's just that I… I'm short on cash. Only on cash! I'm not short in any other… aspect. Anyway, I wasn't really getting my hopes up on him lending me money. He's rich, but he's a cheapskate, that Colonel. He'd probably only spend money on his dates. Or on Lieutenant Hawkeye—but that's not a fact. Yet.

By the time I got to HQ, a lot of the military personnel had already left, and some were on their way out of the offices. I expected the Colonel to have left already, but what the heck. I made a trip to HQ, so I may as well see everyone else other than him. So I went inside.

I was quite surprised when I opened the door to the Colonel's office; as I was about to open the door, someone—by the name of Sergeant Major Kain Fuery—came shuffling out of the office, carrying a stack of books and files with him. "Oh, Edward, Alphonse! Sorry, I'm quite in a hurry, I need to return these before Schiezka leaves!" I nodded, hearing the urgency in his tone. So as he left, Al and I entered the office.

Well, no one was there. But anyone could tell that it wasn't the end of the day for those who worked in that office. Papers were still on the desks (most particularly the Colonel's), and several other things that were unlikely to be left in the office were still there. Several coats still hung on the coat hangers by the door.

"Sergeant Fuery!" Al cried as he picked something up from the ground. "He forgot this!" He was holding a book of sorts. The sergeant must have dropped it in his hurrying. Al and I tried to catch up with him, but he was out of sight. I wonder what this book is…

"Brother, we shouldn't really be poking around other people's business."

"Aw, come on. No one knows we're reading it! Unless you tell them."

"But—"

What in the world? Yeah. Al and I were both surprised at what we found in the book. Well, for starters, we found out that it wasn't a book. It was a photo album. But it wasn't any ordinary photo album though.

"Why are they all pictures of Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Al asked, as we flipped through the pages of the album. Indeed, it contained photographs of the Lieutenant, but most of them seemed to be… stolen shots. The lieutenant in uniform, the lieutenant at work, the lieutenant scolding the colonel, the lieutenant with Black Hayate, the lieutenant at her apartment, the lieutenant at the local shopping center… "You don't think...?" That Sergeant Fuery has a big crush on Lieutenant Hawkeye that he's stalking her?

But then again, if he had a crush on Lieutenant Hawkeye, he wouldn't be taking pictures of the Colonel now, would he? After a couple of pages, it was the Colonel's turn—almost as with Lieutenant Hawkeye's, there were pictures of him in and out of uniform. Some where he's sleeping on the job, some when he's getting a date, some while he's studying, some with Black Hayate… (that dog is damn famous). "I doubt it." I said as we got to the center of the album, which now had pictures of both Lieutenant Hawkeye _and_ Colonel Mustang. Lots of them. And they're always so happy. Okay, this is getting very fishy.

"Fullmetal?" A freakishly familiar voice rang out in the office. Al and I spun around, and there he was: the Flame Alchemist in the flesh, Colonel Roy Mustang. And behind him was none other than Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Looks like they just came from a meeting. "What are you doing here?" I should be asking you that.

"N-Nothing!" I stammered as I shut the album closed and hid it from their view. We've been caught.

"We weren't doing anything wrong, Colonel!" Al reasoned out, just as nervous as I was. "Well, Sergeant Fuery dropped something and… and… we just picked it up, that's all! We didn't see anything! Nothing at all!" Good going, Al.

"Oh, really?" He didn't seem interested—at first. Until he caught a glimpse of the album. I don't know why, but the two suddenly got all… weird. "Well, let me have a look." I gave it to him reluctantly. He flipped through it; he and the lieutenant were wide-eyed.

"Uh… I'll give this back to Sergeant Fuery." Lieutenant Hawkeye spoke, taking the album from the Colonel. "And… uh… thank you for letting us know about this. Yes, uh… for now, I'll just… take this for safe keeping."

"No, I'll keep it."

"It would be much better if I keep it, sir."

"I'm responsible! I won't lose it."

"I'll keep it."

"Fine. I'll scold Fuery when he gets back."

"Yes, sir. Please do that."

Out of curiosity, and well, mainly because I just wanted to see what their reaction would be, I asked, "Is that really important? That book, I mean."

"Y-Yes! It's—" They answered simultaneously, but then paused. Must've been thinking of an answer.

"It's controversial—I mean, confidential information." The Colonel continued, with the Lieutenant nodding in agreement.

So in the end, I didn't get to borrow money from the Colonel. But hey, I was rewarded with something much more than a couple of cenz. _It's a confidential controversy._ Heehee. I knew there was something going on with those two—now I have proven it!

And I have also proven that Sergeant Major Fuery is a big fan of Royai.

* * *

"How in the world did Fuery get these?"

"I'm wondering about the same thing, sir."

"Oh, this is a good shot."

"I like this one better."

"Wait, you don't think Fullmetal...?"

"Let's hope not."

おわり。

* * *

_How random. XD_

_It's my first time writing in Ed's point of view. Haha. XD_

_Oh well. The usual, please review! :D_

_THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE WHO READ AND REVIEWED THE PAST CHAPTERS!  
__I LOVE YOU ALL!_

_~Cherry_

* * *

_**Ed:** I HAVE RETURNED TO THIS PORTION!  
__**Cherry: **__Meh. Get lost. I like Roy more.  
__**Roy:**__ Sorry, Fullmetal.  
__**Ed:**__ WHY YOU-  
__**Cherry: **__(sings and dances) Sorry sorry sorry sorry naega naega naega meonjeo nege nege nege ppajyeo ppajyeo ppajyeo beoryeo baby shawty shawty shawty shawty nuni busyeo busyeo busyeo sumi makhyeo makhyeo makhyeo naega michyeo michyeo baby~ ttanttan ttanttada tta ttaranttan~  
__**Ed:**__ She's lost it.  
__**Roy and Riza:**__ (nods)_


	7. The Millionaire's Moment of Truth

**The Millionaire's Moment of Truth**

1300H. This period of time, directly after lunch, is considered by many as the _unholy hour_. The unholy hour—at this time of the day, when the sun is high up in the sky, the heat is intense, you're on a full-stomach, and you're left to deal with boring paperwork, temptation kicks in. The staff room, the utility closet, the pantry, underneath one's desk, the bathroom… anytime, anywhere, sleep calls.

And whenever the unholy hour falls on Eastern Headquarters, there are only two things that the military personnel could pray for: to resist the call of sleep, or to not get caught by a certain blonde Lieutenant by the name of Riza Hawkeye.

On this particular day however, one man has fallen; guilty of sin on this unholy hour.

* * *

Scorching heat. Despite the wind that blows in the open field, despite the solitude, Colonel Roy Mustang could still feel the heat. The wind was not enough; the wind which was supposed to bring comfort and chill to his tired body only aggravated the whole situation. There was nothing but hot air.

_A mirage? No… it's a chair. Yes, a chair._ He sat down; whoever is the genius who placed a chair in the middle of the parade grounds must be recognized. He dug into his pockets, in search of something to fan himself with. _Nothing but ignition gloves. This will have to do._ As he was about to fan himself with the gloves, the sky began to grow dark. _It's not going to rain, is it?_ His expression paled. It was getting darker and darker, until he was unable to see anything at all.

And all of a sudden, a spotlight.

"Huh?" Roy raised a hand to his head, slightly blinded by the sudden burst of light. A figure stood before him, though technically, was 'invisible'. It grinned at him, quite mischievously. _Cheshire cat?_ He thought, as images of Wonderland flooded his mind—_"Sleeping on the job again, eh? Very well. Off with his head!"_

"So. You're going to challenge me?" the figure spoke, breaking Roy's thoughts of beheading. "Oh, right. It's you're first time here," it said immediately, as Roy gave him a confused look. "I'm… the World, All, God, One, the Universe—The Truth." This left Roy a bit dumbfounded. He tried to examine himself, in case of any missing limbs. There were none; well, he didn't perform any human transmutation to be able to pass the gate, right? So why… "I'm the Truth, and this is… The Moment of Truth!"

"What?" Roy managed to mutter as music started to play in the background. "What do you mean, "The Moment of Truth"? What are you talking about?"

Truth laughed. "Come on, Colonel. You watch this show every night! The Moment of Truth! You are the contestant today! Now, since we have limited airtime, let's get started!" A computer of sorts suddenly appears between them, revealing the instructions for both to read. "Right. So as the computer says: you will be asked questions based from… well, general knowledge of Amestris. Each question is assigned a certain amount. If you answer incorrectly, you will go home with only the guaranteed amount that you have passed—either 1000 Cenz or 50,000 Cenz. Now, you can choose whether or not you want to continue the game. If you choose to end the game, you leave with the prize money you have accumulated thus far. And once you answer all twelve questions correctly, you walk away with a million cenz!

"Although the questions are based from the twenty-nine years of your life, because I am so nice, I'm going to give you "lifelines"! You can call a friend, ask the audience, or eliminate half of the given answers! You can only use these lifelines once, so use them wisely!"

_This isn't the way Moment of Truth goes! It's more of… Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?!_ "What kind of freak show is this?!"

"Just what you're thinking, Colonel. So… let's introduce you to the audience! Though I think they already know you." Truth was consistent. "Alright; today's contestant was originally from the East part of Amestris! A skilled alchemist and also quite a high-ranking officer—also known to be a ladies' man. Let's welcome the Flame Alchemist, Colonel Roy Mustang~! Yaaay~" The crowd cheered as well.

"Do you think you can win the 1,000,000 Cenz, Colonel?" Truth asked.

Roy replied, with the usual determined look in his eyes. "Yes." _I don't know what's going on, or how I got myself into this game, but I'm going home with the 1,000,000 Cenz._

"Ahaha! Alright then! Let's start! For 500 Cenz:

"**I'll pay you back later. Say… when you become Fuhrer." How much change was borrowed by Edward Elric?**

**A. 500  
****B. 520  
****C. 100  
****D. 3000**

"That's easy. It's my money after all; B. 520." Roy answered confidently.

"Is that your final answer?"

"Yes."

"Well, now you've just earned back your 500 Cenz! Twenty Cenz left, eh? Haha! On to the next question, for 1000 Cenz:

**What is dynamite made of?**

**A. Nitroglycerin, ammonium nitrate  
****B. Hydrogen, helium, ammonium nitrate  
C. ****Calcium carbonate, sodium chloride  
D. ****Fluorine, sodium chloride, magnesium**

"Hmm. How outrageous," he commented upon the choices. "It's A, Nitroglycerin and ammonium nitrate." And of course, he was right.

"Oh yes, now that you've gone past the 1000 Cenz mark, if you get any of the questions wrong, your prize money will only be 1000 Cenz. Right-o. So let's move on to the 2,000 Cenz question:

**How many liters of water are there in an average adult human body?**

**A. 10  
B. ****60  
C. ****35  
D. ****72**

"You still have your lifelines, okay. Don't forget them, Colonel." Truth reminded, as Roy was thinking about the answer. He has never performed human transmutation before, but as an alchemist, he must know these kinds of things. Without hesitation, he keyed in his answer. "35 Liters? Is this your final answer?" He nodded.

"If that's the case, then let's move on to the next question, for 5,000 Cenz!"

**What is the lowest rank that can be given to a State Alchemist?**

**A. Sergeant  
B. ****Colonel  
C. ****Major  
D. ****General**

"Well, two thousand Cenz ain't much, but… do you want to get the cheque, or are you going to answer it?"

"There's no way I'll pass this question."

"If you say so; your answer?"

"Major, of course." And of course, he's right. After all, that was where he started. All State Alchemists are given the rank of Major, although their commands may only be taken as that of a Captain's. But for one who did not undergo much military training, that's a very high position to begin with.

"You're on a roll, eh, Colonel? Let's see if you can answer our 10,000 Cenz question:

**Pinako Rockbell was known to Dominic as what?**

**A. The Pantheress of Resembool  
****B. Granny  
C. ****The Automail Alchemist  
D. ****the woman with natto in her hair**

"Who the hell is Dominic?!" Roy's eyes widened as the question was revealed. There was no way he knew this answer. After giving it much thought, Roy has decided. "I can use a lifeline, right? I'll take the 50:50."

"Alright. 50:50. The computer will now eliminate half the answers. Now that you've used the 50:50 lifeline, you may not use it again."

**A. The Pantheress of Resembool  
B. ****---  
C. ****The Automail Alchemist  
D. ****---**

"So now you have two choices left! Is it A? Or C?"

_The Pantheress of Resembool? The Automail Alchemist? God, this is getting more absurd. There's no such thing as an Automail Alchemist! Well, not yet. I don't think she's an alchemist. _"I'll go with… A. The Pantheress of Resembool." Roy mumbled, trying hard not to laugh. Thinking about Granny and her so-called title was just… unexplainable with words.

"Lucky guess, Colonel! She _is_ the Pantheress of Resembool!"

"SERIOUSLY?!"

"Yes. Now, on to the 20,000 Cenz question:

**In History, who started the Ishbal Civil War?**

**A. Edward Elric  
B. ****Scar  
C. ****Envy  
D. ****Helen**

"HEY!" A protest came from the audience, from a certain blonde alchemist, who also happened to be the first option, letter A: Edward Elric. He stood up from the rather small audience, his automailed finger pointing at the Truth. "I wasn't even born at that time!!"

"We are requesting silence from the studio audience so as to avoid any prospect of cheating or clue-giving. Thank you."

"It's not like I'm going to help that bastard Colonel get 1,000,000 Cenz anyway!!"

"—Brother!"

Truth cleared his throat. "Maybe I should I have taken your mouth instead of your limbs." He smirked, as Alphonse desperately tried to restrain his brother from strangling the host. "Anyway; Colonel, you have two lifelines left. And if you want to take the money now, just say so."

"No, I'm answering it."

"Aha, you're the Hero of Ishbal after all."

_Definitely not Fullmetal. And not Scar either. Who the hell is Helen? Ah, the face that launched a thousand ships? Ahaha, if only she existed in Amestris, eh._ "So that leaves… Envy." _Envy? Again? The Ishbal War, then Hughes? This guy has got some issues._

"Envy? Is that your final answer, Colonel?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations, you've just made it half-way to 1,000,000 Cenz! But you're still six questions away from the million, so let's keep moving! For 50,000 Cenz:

**Who calls Edward Elric "Boss"?**

**A. Roy Mustang  
B. ****Winry Rockbell  
C. ****Jean Havoc  
D. H****ohenheim**

"Do you want to get the cheque, or answer?"

"I'll answer; just give me a moment." _I MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT CALL HIM BOSS. So Letter A is out of the choices. Winry-chan? Although I rarely see them together, I doubt she'll call him "Boss". It'll be quite out of character. Hohenheim… his father? He wouldn't; a father would never call his son "Boss". And besides, Hohenheim was never around any way. So it must be Havoc. Yes, it makes sense. Havoc is the only type of person to call someone by "Boss". Seriously, what kind of choices are these?_

"You still have two lifelines—Ask the Audience and Call a Friend."

"I have my answer already. It's C, Jean Havoc." He said as he keyed in the answer.

A cheer came from the audience. "Go Colonel Mustang!!" It was Mr. Letter C, Jean Havoc. Roy nodded in acknowledgement.

And of course, letter C was right. Roy was awarded the 50,000 Cenz. He is getting closer to the goal.

"Now that you've made it to 50,000 Cenz…don't you want to stop? I mean, 50,000 Cenz is a lot of money!" Truth asked. True, 50,000 Cenz really is a lot. And for someone like Roy—a Colonel and also a State Alchemist, he is already bound to have a lot of money. "Do you have any specific thing you want to do or buy once you get the 1,000,000 Cenz?"

"Hmm. Maybe I'll buy Amestris from King Bradley." A wail of devastation from the audience members—particularly, the homunculi group. Eye-rolling and cross-armed, a wave of protest was heard. 'Father wouldn't be pleased about that.' 'We should start the plan after this show—before he makes any transactions.' 'I hope he doesn't get the million… I hope _I_ get the million.' 'Can I eat him?'

Truth sighed. "Yes, yes. Well… for 100,000 Cenz:

**Who among the following have a 'Serpent's Cross' or a 'Flamel'?**

**A. Edward Elric  
B. ****Alphonse Elric  
C. ****Izumi Curtis  
D. ****All of the above**

Research shows that 95% of the time, the answer of the audience is correct. "Can I ask the audience?"

**A: 7 votes  
****B: 3**** votes  
****C: 1 vote  
****D: 19 votes**

"Majority goes for D… then okay. I'll go for D." A majority of the audience said that they all had "Flamels". A Serpent's Cross, or a Flamel can be found on Edward's jacket, on Alphonse's armor, and on Izumi's chest; thus proving that D really is the correct answer.

"Alright, Colonel Mustang. You're so close to the 1,000,000 Cenz! And you've only got one lifeline left to use. Use it wisely. Here's the 200,000 Cenz question:

"**Don't judge a man's worth by—!"  
****Why did Winry Rockbell dump the Elric brothers over their childhood fight about who would marry her?**

**A. "I don't like guys who are shorter than me."  
B. **"**I prefer foreign guys over Amestrians~ 3"  
C. "****We're siblings!"  
D. **"**You just want to marry me so I can take care of your automail/suit of armor!"**

"Oh, that's tough." _Outrageous question. So personal. If she prefers foreign men, she wouldn't have dumped Ling, right? They can't be siblings either. I don't think Fullmetal or Alphonse would be that manipulative to marry just so someone can take care of their mechanics._ "The most sensible answer for me is A."—Edward threw a fit;_ "Why is it always the height?!"_

For a 200,000 Cenz question, is common sense all you really need? This game show is getting all the more fishy.

**On one mission, Roy Mustang's subordinates were assigned certain code names.  
****Hawkeye as Elizabeth, Havoc as Jacqueline, Falman as Vanessa, Fuery at Kate, and Breda as…?**

**A. Bernadette  
B. ****Bredette  
C. ****Bianca  
D. ****Barbie**

"Are you going to get the cheque for 200,000 Cenz? Or will you answer the question? Take time to think! 200,000 Cenz is a lot! If you get this question wrong… you'll go home with only 50,000 Cenz. Although that is a big amount, the 150,000 Cenz will go to waste. So think about it, Colonel."

As the question was posed, a smile formed on the Colonel's lips. _These are my subordinates. This is my forte! Of course I know this. Haha! Breda! Breda's code name is--!_

"Your answer, Colonel?"

"It's B, Bredette!" He laughed.

"Bredette it is! You've just earned yourself 500,000 Cenz!" The audience cheered. "So. You're just a question away from the million. Before we move on to the million cenz question… I'm just curious. Why are you going to buy Amestris? I mean, a lot of girls like you; why don't you just go and splurge on a girl you like? Or are you going to buy Amestris and give it to a girl?"

"No. I'm buying Amestris for myself."

And with that, the crowd chorused with "ooohhh"s and "woah"s. A wave of chatter filled the studio immediately, but was hushed when the Colonel started to explain himself. "The only way I can have her is if I have the presidency. So…"

"That's my Roy-boy!" _What?_ "Don't forget your promise to good ol' Madame Christmas, dear." A woman waved in the crowd. _Ah. Yes. I'd buy her a new palace._ Roy nodded.

"Ah, alright then. Let's get on to your 1,000,000 Cenz question. Are you ready?"

"Always."

"Very well then!"

**In the first volume of the manga, what was the famous self-portrait of Hiromu Arakawa?**

**A. A cow being squished by Scar  
B. ****A cow being punched by Edward  
C. ****A cow with a big zipper on the back  
D. **"**Fighting Panties!"**

_I'm not sure… I may be right, but…_

"Can I… call a friend?"

* * *

_On this unholy hour, is there a chance for salvation?_

All eyes were on him; beads of sweat had already formed on his forehead as that hot afternoon rolled along. He was seated quietly, with his back leaned against his chair. Arms crossed against his chest, and eyes closed. His table was in disarray, with the papers piling up as usual. Although he really must be working at this hour, no one had bothered to wake him up.

_Riiing! Riiiiing! Riiiiiing!_ The telephone rang out loudly in the office, alerting every man in the room, in hopes that the caller is not who they think it is; hoping it's only Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, up to bug the Colonel again, or even one of his random dates, for all they care. As long as it wasn't the general's granddaughter, the sharp shooter… the Hawk.

Colonel Mustang subconsciously lifted the receiver and pressed it against his ear. "Fighting Panties! That's the answer, right?" He said into the phone, still stuck on his dream of winning the million cenz. His voice was slurred, but loud; his mind still drifting off in Lala-land. With his phone greeting, his subordinates turned to look at him, all seemed like they wanted to laugh their heads off at their superior's greeting.

The person on the other line did not seem amused though. "Excuse me, sir?"

At the sound of her voice, the Colonel immediately jolted awake, almost tumbling from his seat. "L-Lieutenant Hawkeye?" He stammered. "Aha..hahaa! Hello. About that… that was… the… answer to the 1,000,000 Cenz question? Ahaha?"

"Sir, you really should stop watching those… shows."

* * *

_Okaaay. That was totally random, as usual. I feel so.. not myself these days. Maybe because I'm sick with mumps. Haha. Damn. A sixteen year old girl with mumps. Maaan. This sucks._

_I want to go to school tomorroooow. Because we have Physics. And hell knows what my Physics teacher would let the class do. D: Oh well._

_God has a plan._

_And hopefully it has nothing to do with Fighting Panties. HAHAHAHAHA._

_Sorry, Hiromu Arakawa-san's "Fighting Panties" incident. Just. Haha. Win. XD_

_So yeah. Randomness. I promise I'll do better next time!_

_I don't think I ended this properly. Oh well. I'll edit it eventually. When my brain cells start working normally. (Though they never did in the first place.) Hmm. I think Riza's statement had a double meaning to it. XD Well, if you look at it in the "fighting panties" context, she might be referring to some kind of… show. XD And if you're looking at it in the game show context, well, she's just saying to stop watching game shows so much. Oh well. Whatever._

_Thanks for reading! :D_

_I hope you got my flow of thoughts even if this was all like… slush. XD_

_I love you all! Thank you also to everyone who reviewed the past chapters, as usual. 3_

_~Cherry_

_

* * *

_

_**Arakawa-san:**__ It's the underwear self-portrait again. D:  
__**Cherry:**__ Sorry, sensei.  
__**Arakawa-san:**__ (sighs)_

…_sorry, my creative juices have dried out. Haha. And no, I cannot talk to Arakawa-san in person. I'm just pretending to be able to. 8D_

* * *

_AAAAH MY BRAIN IS SO DEAD. D: (goes to sleep)_


	8. Change

_Possible spoilers ahead. You have been warned. 8D_

* * *

**Change**

Amestris is a large and diverse state run by the military, under the command of the Fuhrer. A landlocked country, surrounded by Drachma in the North, Creta in the West, Aerugo in the South, and beyond the Great Desert, in the East, lies the country of Xing. Amestris is a strong and powerful nation; its regions and provinces had once been separate lands on their own, until they were conquered by the rest of Amestris.

Because of the great diversity within the people, it is inevitable for a war to ensue. Considered as possibly the biggest war that happened in Amestris, the Ishbal Civil War took many lives of innocent people. With the war that had ceased, it seems that bad things are never uncommon to happen in Amestris now. It is not a surprise to see the military everywhere either; with the country controlled by the military, it is expected. And due to the country's militaristic acts, Amestris seems to keep shaky relations with the bordering countries.

Despite the fact that a war could wage anytime, although Amestris could as well as relive the events of the Ishbal war, even if history could repeat itself, Amestrians still continue to live in Amestris. _Bad things happening are never uncommon._

With all the madness that is happening in different areas of Amestris, it is getting more and more difficult to say if we are actually living in reality. Wars and bloodshed, the conspiracy in the military, a nationwide transmutation circle, human sacrifices, the country being led by homunculi, creating Philosopher's Stones, immortality, self-regenerating humans… they are all related. We're living in insanity, and yet we still cannot notice; we continue to shrug it off, think of it as nothing.

That is, until we find out at the last minute that our deaths are for the greed of a few.

It's not true when they say that what you don't know can't hurt you. It _can_ hurt you; kill you, even.

A better world; a peaceful country, with no wars and no bloodshed… Right now, it all seems immature, idealistic, impossible. Is it worth dreaming for a better place when you live in such a chaotic world? If you keep trying, if you are determined, if you don't give up, will you really achieve your goal? There are times when I've lost the will to continue; times when it all seemed hopeless. When you go up against people who are unhurt by bullets or flames, when you come across people you cannot kill, won't you get that feeling of weakness and helplessness? _It's hard to fight when the fight isn't fair._

Although he could just walk away and pretend everything is alright, he moves forward. His determined eyes say that we can beat this… that things will change.

Even though the phrase "to make the world a better place" sounds so childlike, cliché, and even overused, it is his dream. No one really knows what flame is burning inside of him, but I think that it is his view—his green ideals—that will make him succeed. Despite the many challenges that are disheartening, he keeps motivated.

This fight is not going to be easy; the battle ahead of us may be long. There's not much time left, but as I watch him, I get the feeling that no matter what, he won't give up until he wins.

_I believe in whatever you do, and I'll do anything to see it through.  
Because these things will change, can you feel it now?  
These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down.  
It's a revolution; the time will come for us to finally win._

* * *

_And we'll sing hallelujaaaah~! _

_Haha. Yeah. Soooo. That's that? I was actually planning to write something more full-scale, more action-packed and such. But time does not permit and… well, it's way beyond me. XD So here I am, with another drabble._

_  
The song featured in this drabble, "Change", is by Taylor Swift. :]_

_THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED AND ADDED ME TO YOUR LISTS. I LOVE YOU ALL!  
__Please continue to review~ Reviews inspire me to write more. (hearts)_

_~Cherry_

_P.S. If anyone has any suggestions for any stuff for me to write, feel free to suggest! :D_

_

* * *

  
__**Riza:**__ Alright; now that that's done, it's time to get back to work. Time to study, dear.  
__**Cherry:**__ Oh, right. (mentally slaps self) Back to work. Back to work.  
__**Roy:**__ You're a slave driver, Riza.  
__**Riza:**__ She needs it. 8D  
__**Cherry:**__ Thank you for your concern. :] Right-o. I shall go back to studying. 8D (gathers books)  
__**Riza:**__ I'm so happy that she's finally being responsible. :'D  
__**Roy:**__ (peers over Cherry's shoulder and sees books) English, Physics, Calculus, Economics. o____o They teach that to children?  
__**Cherry:**__ I'm not a kid! I'm a high school student!  
__**Riza:**__ (whacks the two with clipboard) Back to work! Both of you!  
__**Roy and Cherry:**__ Yes ma'am!_


	9. The Alchemy of Life

**The Alchemy of Life**

In those days, alchemy was believed to be able to explain everything in the world. Alchemy was a philosophy, a practice, a science. It was the law of the world. It was used in everything—in creation, in destruction, in healing, in transformation. Alchemy has brought many wonders into the world. It opened our eyes to many things, helped us understand the hidden principles of the universe. "One is All; All is One." It is the truth. It is life.

Many great alchemists have come and passed this world, and their discoveries helped in developing and shaping the world we have today. Transmutation, immortality, an increase in abilities, medicine—these are just a few of the uses and discoveries of alchemy. Although alchemy is supposed to be used for the good, for the benefit of many, the few who were gifted with it had become blinded at a certain point in time. Human weapons in war, bloodshed for immortality, bringing the dead back to life… this happened, all until a certain group decided to stand up and stop this madness.

In that group was a man with green ideals. He was a man who wanted to change Amestris—to change the world. This man was an alchemist, a soldier, an Amestrian. That man… is a father.

…

"Daddy, why is the sky blue?"

Roy Mustang blinked. A black spot was moving up and down in front him, and it was making him dizzy. Jumping, jumping—lively, energetic—it was as if a new set of batteries had been put inside the young boy in front of him. The black spot was the child's head, moving up and down as he was jumping to get a view of his father. With the pile of paperwork that lay on his father's desk, he could not quite see him any more. "Didn't I answer that before?" The boy only looked at him with the usual eager eyes, expecting to hear his answer.

The Fuhrer sighed. "It's not really blue. It just looks blue because of the air scattering the light." Whether or not his son understood this, he didn't know. For the sake of answering the question, he stated the fact he knew, regardless of its complexity to the child's understanding. Roy moved the stack of papers to the side of the desk; on cue, the child stopped jumping—his father was now in view.

"So the light is blue? Or the air is blue? What about your uniform? Is it blue because of light? Is light colored blue? Why are the lamps at home not blue?"

So many questions all at once! And Roy knew that his son was just at the beginning. He averted his gaze from the report he was attempting to read to the face of his son. "Light doesn't have a color. Well, it's white. When it passes through… things, it reflects other colors—the ones we see." This silenced the child for a moment; he was processing the ideas presented by his father. Seeing his son's troubled expression, Roy smiled, giving a face of reassurance. "Don't worry; you'll get it eventually."

The pout did not cease; the boy was still thinking.

…

Roy Mustang, Jr. –this young boy inherited everything from his father. Not just the name, but even the looks. And eventually, as the child's visits to headquarters became frequent, he seemed to have inherited his father's popularity and charm as well. Although he is not a threat to anyone's love life (as of now), the male population of the military—just as with General Mustang in the past—resented the attention given to him by the female officers. It was generally a chorus of "so cute" and "so like his father" from the females and wails of "why?!"s from the male military personnel—that is, until Lieutenant General Hawkeye (or rather, Mustang, by law) arrives.

It is no different today as little Roy makes his way out of his father's office, his expression showing that he was engaged in deep thought. Another question-and-answer segment had passed between father and son that day, and the boy's last question garnered a lengthy, well-thought of, but shakily-said answer.

In the corridor leading to the Fuhrer's office, two golden-haired youth were walking, papers in hand. They were brothers—this was a fact known since the beginning. The shorter and surprisingly, older one of the men had an automail arm, and the taller one seemed to have all limbs complete. They were the renowned Elric brothers—Edward and Alphonse Elric. Or rather, Uncle Edward and Uncle Alphonse, to the little Roy-boy.

"Hey," the Fullmetal Alchemist said as soon as he was within earshot of the child. "…Roy." It was still quite awkward to call a kid—who he is generally of a higher-level to—the same name as his superior. "Is the General—er, your dad in?" He asked, kneeling to be of the same eye-level as the child. Ed was smiling; only when he talked to this kid that he felt he was so tall—so of course he was happy.

The child nodded, eyes drifting from Ed's face, to the familiar chain that dangled from Edward's side, where his State Alchemist pocket watch hung, and eventually to his automail arm. Another question had popped into the inquisitive child's mind. "Uncle Ed, why do you have a metal arm?" He asked, innocently. There had been many times that little Roy saw this arm of his, but never thought of asking about it until today. Ed was taken aback by the question.

"Oh, this?" He pointed at his right arm; parts of the metal limb glimmered as it was struck by light. "Well… it's… uh…" Edward racked his brain for answers. _What should I tell this kid?_ "It's the price for performing human transmutation." _There, I said it. I guess he only deserves to know the truth. Besides, by the time he understands that it's taboo, he would've—should've forgotten about it. Haha!_

Little did Edward know that answering this child's questions only led to more. "What's human transmutation?"

"Ah… ah… it's…" _What am I going to say?! Al, help me!_

And as if reading Edward's mind, Alphonse began to talk, falling into the same position his older brother had as well. He too knelt by the little boy. "Well… it's kinda like… making a person." _It's… sort of true, isn't it?_ It is, although there's the fact that it's taboo, and the fact that it will always be unsuccessful.

"Making a person?" Little Roy tilted his head to the side. Like a sudden flash of lightning, a smile surfaced on his face. A realization hit him. "Oh! So that's what Daddy was talking about!"

_General Mustang told his son about human transmutation?!_

The brothers had the same thought, but it was Edward who spoke. "W-What did he tell you, anyway?"

"He said that people were made by alchemy!" The boy declared happily. This only brought shock to the Elric brothers._—The General said what?!—_"He said something like a woman has this super secret, hidden transmutation circle. And a man has the formula. And they both have the ingredients to make a person. There's a special circle and formula in each person, and there's only one formula for one circle. So the only way a person is made is if the formula and circle match~! Then I asked him if he and mommy were a match, and he said yes!" The child narrated, full of vigor. The brothers almost toppled over with the gravity of the child's story.

"Oh." That was all that Edward could manage to say. There was a moment of silence between the three, until Edward found his voice again. "What did you ask him, again?"

"I asked him where I came from, and where he came from, and where mommy came from, and where everyone else came from!"

Edward mouthed an 'o' and nodded slowly. Kids are so… innocent. "And I asked him if he would teach me that kind of alchemy too!" Ed and Al's eyes widened in shock, their mouths forming an even bigger 'o' with every statement the little Roy uttered. "But he said, no. He said when I get older, I'll understand it, even if he didn't teach me. And… he said that it's a very difficult kind of alchemy that only adults could know."

"Well, I didn't think I'd say this, but I have to agree with the General—your dad," Edward laughed, patting the boy on the head. "You'll get it eventually." With that, Edward and Alphonse stood, as the door to the Fuhrer's office opened, revealing a face familiar to all three of the males. Mommy, the Lieutenant General, the Fuhrer's wife, secretary, assistant, aide—Riza Hawkeye.

"See you around then," Edward and Alphonse smiled, as the child waved a hearty goodbye. Riza had told them that Roy was waiting for them inside. They ushered themselves in as Riza went over to the child, cradling him up in her arms and saying something about lunch, to which he responded happily.

…

_Of all things, why alchemy? He could've just said that old stork story or something._ Edward thought as the door closed behind him.

On that day, a new alchemical philosophy was born: humans, whether or not they were alchemists by profession, could be alchemists by nature. It is because of that certain kind of alchemy that was passed down from generation to generation, a secret from the beginning of time—the secret to an immortal name. It was not written down, there was no guide to it, nor did it have set of instructions. "This is what it is, how and why it is done"--no, it was not passed that way, but it was understood and known by everyone. It was greater than any Magnum Opus; greater than the Philosopher's Stone, or the Elixir of Life. It was far greater than transmuting lead into gold; it was the creation of life.

So figuratively, General Roy Mustang's theory on the creation of life could be correct. But it wasn't really a theory, it was… an excuse? No, it was an explanation of the complicated way of life. It was an explanation in the view of an alchemist, a soldier, an Amestrian… of a father whose audience took the form of an inquisitive five year old.

おわり。

* * *

_**Cherry:**__ Haha, I didn't know how to end it.  
__**Ed:**__ So it was all your idea? Your twisted, twisted mind. Poor kid; poor Colonel. Er, General.  
__**Cherry:**__ Yeah. Haha. I'm sorry. XD Just popped into my head. I was curious about the possibility of Roy dealing with a kid who asks so many questions that it eventually falls to _that_ topic. XD So yeah.  
__**Ed:**__ Why Roy Mustang, Jr.? Couldn't you have thought of a better name?  
__**Cherry:**__ Let's just assume that's the name Riza gave. 8D  
__**Ed:**__ Why Riza?  
__**Cherry:**__ Because Roy said Riza had no naming sense. (laughs) Remember? The part about Riza saying: "My beloved dog is named… Black Hayate." And then Roy goes: "You have absolutely no naming sense." (laughs)  
__**Ed:**__ Oh. Riiiight. 8|_

* * *

_**Roy Jr.:**__ Uncle Ed, since you said your arm was the price of human transmutation… does that mean you found your match too, just like daddy and mommy?  
__**Ed: **__H-Huh?! W-What--?! Oh! No! No! It's not what you think! (image of Winry appears in mind) N-N-No! That's impossible!!  
__**Roy Jr.:**__ But you said…  
__**Ed:**__ Forget about what I said, ahahahaaa… (nervous laugh) (Riza appears in thoughts) "You love her, don't you? Don't you? Don't you?"_

_**Roy:**__ It's a kind of alchemy only adults are allowed to do.  
__**Roy Jr:**__ Why?  
__**Roy:**__ Uh… because… you have to be prepared for it. It's very… complex. And… if you try to alchemize—transmute at a young age, there could be… problems. Complications. Accidents. You could lose a lot in your life.  
__**Roy Jr.:**__ Like what?  
__**Roy:**__ Something much worse than losing a couple of arms or legs. It's definitely not something your Aunt Winry can fix with automail.  
__**Roy Jr.:**__ Uncle Ed said--  
__**Ed:**__ I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!_

* * *


	10. Broken

_Warning: Spoilers for the manga. Sort of._

_And… before I go on with the story, I just want to thank all those who have reviewed! Thank you so much!_

_Hagane no Renkinjutsushi—Fullmetal Alchemist is Hiromu Arakawa's, and I have no right to dictate what happens to the plot and the characters. The implied events in this story are simply products of my imagination. 8D_

_And actually, even if I wrote this sort of thing, I wouldn't want it to happen._

* * *

**Broken**

Things have changed greatly since that day. It has been quite some time since then, and most, if not all, have probably adjusted to how Amestris lives at present. It is peaceful, with no wars or conflicts. The day long awaited by the Amestrians had come, all thanks to those _heroes_. The situation could have been worse, had it not been for those brave men who have sacrificed their own comforts; some even their lives. A nationwide transmutation circle—it was the biggest and yet most cunning scheme. It took tears, sweat, and blood to turn the tables, but despite the great obstacles, this peace, this happiness, only proved that nothing was impossible.

She was glad that all the troubles were over. She was pleased that things have changed for the better. She too, rejoiced at the victory over the enemies. But despite her happiness, her joy and her pride for those men, she felt... alone. Bitter, lonely, hopeless, lost.

It annoyed her how the sun could shine so brightly as if smiling upon the world. It annoyed her how the world went on turning and revolving and how everyone went on with their lives. It annoyed her how sunny days seemed to mock her. It annoyed her how every second, minute and hour passed so slowly, reminding her only of how long her stay on this earth might still be. It annoyed her how she was left here, without him.

* * *

It was spring in 1915. Darkness spread all over the state of Amestris; a shadow slowly devouring the last bits of hope, filling the citizens' hearts with fear and terror. There was chaos and turmoil, bloodshed and destruction everywhere. In the sky was a ring of light, enclosing the state's center in darkness, leading it to its fate, just as what had happened to a desert nation centuries ago.

The scent of blood was carried along on the faint, dying breeze, along with the unheard cries of the fearful citizens, all unknowing of what is happening to their militaristic nation. Everything seems to be dead or dying; this was far worse than any war the state had seen, far worse than the Ishbalan Annihilation, worse than the border skirmishes. Death was lurking at every corner, watching in the shadows.

It was like all life and color had been drained from this spring image; no blooming flowers or growing grass, no bright blue skies or soaring birds—only crumbling structures, dust and rocks, shadows and flying bullets. It was the Promised Day.

The city was in ruins. Roads were destroyed, trees uprooted, the once-store-lined streets were in disarray and unrecognizable—almost all reduced to mere rubble. Central Headquarters seemed to have suffered the greatest damage; the mighty structure of the state's central command had crumbled. The battle was over.

The sky regained its color, and the light was slowly coming in as the moon continued its revolution around the earth, the sun's rays no longer blocked by the celestial body. With what was left of Central City's military troops, the city was being put back into order, with its citizens as the top priority. Wounded men, women and children all lay in rows, one by one being examined and treated by the field paramedics and the remaining doctors.

"_The four of us have a one-way ticket to the battlefield. There will be no going back if we fail. And as such, I have _one_ order, and you _will_ obey it. 'Do not die!' is that clear?"_

His words still rung in her ears, echoing the same message over and over, like a mantra, as if calling herself back into the conscious world. _Do not die. Do not die._ Noise from the surroundings started to reach her hearing as well; faint voices of familiar people—the concerned questions of a kind-hearted major, the retorts of his sister general; the cries of two frazzled alchemy apprentices over a blood-spewing 'housewife', and the rambling of a young, worried mechanic, among others. There was a wet feeling on her cheek all of a sudden; _arf!_ –a dog calling for its master.

The Lieutenant winced; she could barely move. Her wounds were painful, her head was throbbing. As she slowly opened her eyes, choruses of "Lieutenant Hawkeye?" rang in her ears, and a small crowd of familiar faces greeted her. They too were wounded, but were in a good enough condition to stand on their own. They were smiling, perhaps grateful to be alive, but there was a grave, poignant look in their eyes. It was then that she noticed something was amiss. _He _was not there.

_It can't be—_the thought left her as soon as it came.

"_Don't stop thinking! Never lose the will to live! If you're a soldier, if you're my aide, be more firm than this."_

She found her voice, although it took much painful effort to utter the question she longed to ask. "Roy—Colonel Mustang," she mumbled. This silenced the group around her. "Where… is he?" No one answered. She sat up, much to her companions' protests, and desperately searched the people in the medics' area, in hopes of spotting the beloved Colonel. "Why aren't you answering me?" She asked them; the smiles have dropped from their faces.

"Lieutenant," a muscular, mustachioed man started, his voice soft and trembling, as if he couldn't bring himself to utter the truth. "…please, just take a rest. Your wounds—"

"Where is he?" Her voice, in contrast, was strong and pushing, but at the same time, worried and desperate. They did not—could not look at her. More or less, they already knew what would happen. They were simply concerned about her, but then again, it wouldn't be fair on her part. Knowing the truth was painful, but not knowing it was much more agonizing.

She tried to stand, but the pain was too much. A louder set of protests and worried calls came. "I think the Lieutenant deserves to know," a teenaged boy said. He dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out two objects—a once-silver pocket watch, now weathered from battle; and a tattered pair of gloves. A short gasp escaped from the lips of the few who were with them. "This was all they found as of now."

"_Don't go where I can't follow!"_

She couldn't believe it. No, she didn't want to believe it. As the cold metal of the pocket watch and the rough texture of the now-ragged ignition gloves came into contact with her hands, it was as if a sharp knife had been plunged into her chest, her heart in more pain now than her body. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but her eyes have gone empty, void of showing its true emotion. And at that moment, all physical pain had been washed out by her tears; the only pain she felt was of her heart, not accepting the fact that she may have lost him for a second time.

She stood, although staggering; they tried to restrain her, to get her to lie down, but to no avail. She freed herself from them, and with all her might, ran—limped—back to the battlefield that was now in ruins.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

"_Please don't die."  
_"_Don't say such ominous things."_

Desperately calling out his name, in hopes of him hearing her beneath the rubble, in hopes that he's still there, she turns every rock, every piece of debris she could lift. _He's in there, somewhere; those incompetent men aren't searching hard enough. He's in there, somewhere._ She calls out, listens for signals; she heeds every tap, every click—it may be a sign that he's still there, somewhere. Her search-and-rescue training can't fail her; not now, not when she needs it most.

The paramedics are coming in the distance; she can hear them calling her. And for a split second, she sees something; a spot of blue, somewhere underneath the debris—_Taisa?_—all at once, there had been a tinge of hope and a spot of fear in her. He could be alive, he could be dead. It could be him, or someone else. But whether it was him or it was a delusion, she never found out, for darkness clouded her vision once again.

She could see nothing, hear nothing; the place she had drifted to was dark and was deafening with its silence. It was a place of isolation, vast and overwhelming; she was deep into her subconscious. The scenes changed around her, but she remained in the same state. To them, she was simply asleep, and she would eventually wake up, but she wished otherwise.

And she laid there, eyes closed; awaiting the moment she could rejoin the soul of the world. And it was in those moments that she proved one does not need to be awake to cry.

"_I have no desire to live a happy, carefree life all alone. After this battle is over, my body will leave this world together with the corpse of the Flame Alchemist."_

* * *

おわり。


	11. Ruins

_SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 100. Haven't read it? I suggest you click that pretty back (--__) button at the left side of your web browser now. That, or you could just go and read Chapter 100, then go back here. Take your pick._

* * *

**Ruins**

She said she'd follow me. He said she was my weak spot. They said I was a sacrifice. I said I had to be insane to do it.

I'm not stupid to do something I know I'm only going to fail in. I can't bring the dead back to life, no matter how much I want to. To regain what we've lost, we must move forward. That's easier said than done, but it's the only thing we can do.

It all happened so fast. I had so many plans, so many things I wanted to happen, so many words I still wanted to say. But in the blink of an eye, it all vanished. The tears were too slow for the blood. That crimson liquid, her precious life force… it was fading, diminishing, and I couldn't do anything about it.

I wanted to bring her back, even if I knew it was impossible. I wanted to try, but that meant giving in to their plans. I was at a loss.

If love could conquer all, can it transcend the barriers of alchemy too?

She's gone. He was right. They're winning. I'm insane.

- - -

"_Don't stop thinking. Never lose the will to live. Be firm." Those were the words he told me. I wish he could remember those words he said._

_I said I'd follow him. He blocked the path. They said he was a sacrifice. He was determined to defeat them._

_We've been through so much. We've planned and worked and fought, we can't possibly fail now. We can't give up. She was right. This is a world where only the fit survive. Maybe that's why I didn't gain much favor with her. Perhaps she saw that deep inside, I wasn't fit enough for this kind of life._

_I don't want to leave him, not in the midst of this battle. I can't. I won't forgive myself. I made a promise, and I don't plan to break it._

_If there is a life after death, I hope our next one would have a different ending. A happier one._

_He stopped thinking. He lost his resolve. He faltered. I didn't say any words to him. But I wish I could have at least said—_

- - -

Something inside this heart has died. _We're_ in ruins.

* * *

**End.**

I hate myself for writing this. :)) It seems that I'm actually agreeing with Chapter 100, if you read it. But… gah. asdfghjkl; Sorry, I was just being angsty about my fandom. Screw Chapter 100. XD

Maaan. I knew it. I knew it from the moment they said Roy was a candidate for sacrifice. Damn.  
Sorry about the angst. Well, at least now that's off my chest. XD

~Cherry

P.S. I just realized that I've been posting angst recently. HAHA. No worries, I'm going to post something more fun by Halloween and Christmas and New Year! (Hopefully. XD)


	12. Untitled

_Okay, I know I promised to post chapters with… lighter plots, but I just can't help it. Spur of the moment thing. XD Blame my awesome English teacher who discussed Dante Alighieri's epically great Divine Comedy last week. 8D_

_Roy-centric. Also, my first work that remains untitled._

* * *

It was ironic. As they, little by little, start to shed light upon the truth behind the military's conspiracies, they find even more darkness. In this darkness, it becomes even more difficult to distinguish friends from foes. It's a little late, but perhaps his advice was right. Perhaps he really should get more people to support him, to be on his side. But who can he trust?

Beyond that gate, behind those doors, sits a man—no, he is a being that transcends mere humans—who is all powerful. This is his territory, this is his field. To enter his base is like descending to Hell. Beyond that gate, behind those doors, are his hosts of fallen men, those who desire to be something more than human, and that, in turn, made them become even less.

"_Is this the door to glory, or the gate to hell?"_

He was taking a bold step. It was a great risk. Anything could happen once he had entered—he may not even come back out. But he pushed onward. He was going to find out the truth, the trouble that the military was faced with. Even if he had to descend to Lucifer himself, then so be it.

It was ironic. The further down you went into Hell, the colder it was. No, the bottom of Hell was not in flames, it was encased in ice. And like the chill that numbs all the senses, this ice has numbed his emotions as well. His heart is devoid of all feelings—all except wrath.

"_Only one soul remained, along with this feeling of '_wrath'_."_

But wrath was the least that tainted his heart; although it was believed to be as such. No, his seat was one for the deceitful and treacherous, one who he is. He has tricked the state about his kind, betrayed the people with his hidden plans. And when he found that this man, whose heart was aflame with ideals, was already looking past him, he saw that this man was capable. With his determined eyes and strong-will, he was capable of opening the gate.

Opening the gate and walking past it is not enough. He has to get back. Someone is waiting for him on the surface. She would've come with him if she could, but for now, she waits.

"_Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate."_

* * *

おわり。

_A bit confusing? XD Most of the stuff is based from the manga (Chapter 50+) and also from Dante's Inferno. Especially the parts relating to hell and stuff like that. If you didn't get something and/or are curious, feel free to ask. :D_

_And lastly, "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate" means "Abandon every hope, all you who enter here." This is a direct quote from Inferno. This was part of what was written at the Gates of Hell. 8D_

_EDIT: Sorry, it was "ogne", not "ognu". Necessary changes made. 8D_


	13. 022 God

_SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 101. Don't know? Don't read. Seriously. XD **Theme 022: God.** Scar POV._

* * *

It was like Ishbal. There was darkness; everything was engulfed in smoke and dust, and the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood lay thick over the surroundings. We're surrounded by enemies, hollow bodies with no spirit; their eyes were empty and void, like a window glass too fogged up.

It was like Ishbal. Everything happened so quickly, people would run and hide, fight and be killed. No one could come out alive. And in an instant, the hammer fell; she was struck, as quick as she had struck them before. But this was not the hammer of god.

"Can you hear my voice?!" So now, he knows what it feels like to lose family, a friend, a loved one. The pain, the desperation, the hopelessness. "Answer me, Lieutenant!" But this was not the hammer of god.

No, it was the fist of a mere human. A man who takes advantage of his own kind, treacherous, deceitful… and selfish, most of all. He joys in the pain of others, celebrates in others' defeat. God is a being created by humans, he says. And he who made god wants his throne higher than anything and anyone else's. But he will be thrown off and hurled down, deeper and farther from his aim. This is the hammer of god.

"I won't die… I've… been ordered not to die, you see." The strength of the human heart. She is a human. A woman who believes until her last breath; a woman true to her word. It must be more than an order; it must have been a promise. A promise that binds them even past death, even to the depths of hell. It must be more than loyalty; it must have been love. A love kindled by an inner flame, set off by the sparks of their experiences and memories. Determination, belief, strength, trust, hope, loyalty, love. These set demons and sinners apart.

Sins are sins, but even god forgives.

_**

* * *

**_

**End.**

_Haha. First time writing in Scar's POV. And this drabble is so random. Anyway, just a little something to let you guys know that I'm still alive, just like Lieutenant Hawkeye. 8D Aaaand. Yeah. Sorry about the Halloween thing. Didn't make it. But for Christmas, I promise. Really. I'm serious now. HAHA._

_Thanks for reading. :]_


	14. Tequila Sunrise

_To Pechay-hime and Marshie-chan. :]_

_I think this is what deserves the T rating. Kinda? XD_

_

* * *

_

**Tequila Sunrise**

It was yet another one of those peculiar days that the men in Colonel Mustang's team would finish and turn in all their work early in exchange for an earlier time out at the Headquarters. It was like a sickness, and Lieutenant Hawkeye knew all the signs and symptoms the men gave out.

The first and most obvious "symptom" would probably be their hard work and diligence a couple of days before the event. They would all work so hard—no complaints whatsoever—and they would even skip their breaks. The Colonel would fight the urge to nap, Havoc wouldn't bother to take a smoke, and Breda would even cut on his non-break-snacks. Sometimes, they would even go as far as going on overtime just to finish more work than the usual. Then they'd be able to accomplish at least a week's worth of work in half the time. This was no problem for Lieutenant Hawkeye; in fact, she liked it. But it was really strange that this diligence and perseverance of theirs was periodical.

After doing some research and investigations, Riza discovered_ what _the cause of this "illness" was. And because it happened so often, Riza decided to give it a name, and she called it, "the Boy's Night Out." It may sound silly, but it was true. On certain days, the men would work themselves up, only to reward themselves with a night of fun and goofing off at some bar downtown. Under Roy's lead, as usual.

They had these occasional "nights out" mainly to unwind. Usually, on these nights, they simply goof off, have fun, and forget the worries and problems in the military. On these nights, they have no regard for rank or position; they come as friends and comrades. On these nights, they can do whatever they want—get payback for inflicted embarrassments, return favors, or simply to renew the relationships blurred by work.

And what better way to spend this night than drinking, right? Boys will be boys as they say, so of course, jokes, laughs, games, and large amounts of alcohol is expected. Alcohol, liquor, beer—whatever you choose to call it—he's in every man's party and this one is no exception. For years on end, they have had this wonderful visitor to join them, and he is more than welcome.

That was how it was; nights spent with friends, with beer, with cards, and occasionally, with buying girls some drinks (though usually, that's only on Havoc's agenda). But tonight is a different story. Tonight, the boys decided to spend their night out in a new way.

"Crash the Colonel's apartment!" Havoc said enthusiastically, pumping his hand into the night air as the group made their way onto the streets in front of Eastern Headquarters. The others, namely Breda, Falman, and Fuery, all nodded in consent to Havoc's new idea. Though there wouldn't be an until-your-money-lasts supply of alcohol at the Colonel's place, there was a certain shine at the idea of crashing the Colonel's home. Roy didn't seem to approve or disapprove of the matter.

Lieutenant Hawkeye was heading out of the Headquarters as well, walking in a rather far distance from the men. She was the last to leave the office, as she went to deliver the last of their finished papers and made a short stop to the restroom. The blonde was spotted by Second Lieutenant Havoc even at her distance from them; he waved. "Lieutenant Hawkeye!" He called in a voice a bit too loud. The group stopped to wait for the blonde lieutenant, all the while making a short discussion among themselves.

Tonight was night of change, so perhaps it would be fun if they invited the Lieutenant over, right?

"Say, Lieutenant," Havoc started, as Riza approached them. Breda started to back away though, as he caught sight of Riza's famed dog, Black Hayate, trailing behind his master. "Wanna come with us? We're going to the Colonel's place." He asked, then adding the little detail as if he were teasing, and yet at the same time, persuading her.

"Is that so?" She replied, almost uninterested. She was a girl—no, actually, a woman—and she would certainly not belong in the men's party. Although the invitation did get her curious about the Colonel's home… _No, no. It's a Boys' Night Out; you'll be out of place. You won't be able to relate to their… boy things. And besides—_

"Yes, Lieutenant, you should come," Roy grinned, breaking Riza out of her thoughts. There was something about his smile that made Riza want to decline all the more, but at the same time, it was a smile she couldn't resist.

* * *

Riza Hawkeye was not a drinker; she could play cards, as long as it didn't require the loser to strip or to drink—which rarely happened if you were playing with men. Riza was quite conservative. No, actually, it was more like she wanted to preserve that disciplinarian image, that no-nonsense, witty and wise image she always projected. If she didn't, they would never take her seriously, and they'd never finish their work!

Now she found herself sitting on the floor, as the group encircled an ornate coffee table placed at the center of the room. On the table were several empty and half-empty bottles and glasses, none of which were Riza's. She looked around her; first at her companions, whose faces were now tinged with red, flushed from the alcohol, then at the Colonel's surprisingly neat apartment (disregarding the space they've "crashed" into). Underneath the smell of alcohol and Havoc's cigarettes, a distinct scent lingered—it didn't smell like anything else, it was unexplainable. It was the scent of a Flame Alchemist.

"Hey, hey," Roy said rather loudly, though his voice didn't need to compete with any other sound in the room. His speech was already quite slurred by the alcohol, but was still, nonetheless, understandable. "Let's play… President!" The others laughed and nodded, clearing up the table to make room for the cards, which Roy had placed in a stack at the center of the table.

Havoc shuffled and dealt the cards among them, as Roy—taking the liberty of being the first President—discussed the rules. "The usual rules! But…" He trailed off, his gaze falling to Riza, who was looking at her cards with a frown. Roy smirked. "The loser has to do a dare!" He brought out a variety of drinks enough for the six of them. This wasn't a good sign.

So what were the usual rules? Riza was familiar with the game of President—she had watched a few games herself—but she never really tried to play it. To her, it seemed like a combination of several card games, such as Big Two, and Poker.

The game starts with the Three of Clubs. Whoever owns the card must put it down either singly, or in a combination with other cards like a pair. The next player then follows the trend set by the first player, putting down cards higher than that of the previous player. And it continues until a player loses all his cards, and is thus declared President. The President then decides what to do with the losers.

When you pass on your turn, you take a penalty—which the President of the round decides.

And so, the game began.

* * *

"Drink! Drink! Drink!" The men chorused, when they saw Riza's face fall at the cards Havoc just laid down. It was a flush, and it was a case of pure luck if a beginner like Riza could top it off. So the men, certain she would pass, all cheered for a penalty. Riza didn't seem to have beginner's luck at all, and was drinking all throughout the game. "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

Riza had a frown on her face as she examined the cards in her hand. Compared to the others, she still had quite a lot. _Havoc's cards were a four, five, six, seven, and eight of diamonds. How can I— _And then it hit her. "Uh… is this higher?" She asked innocently as she carefully unfolded her cards on top of the pile, her smile growing as the men's faces fell. An Eight, Nine, Ten, Jack, and Queen of Hearts. Hearts are lower than diamonds, but the Queen is definitely of a higher rank.

"So… the President is impeached!" She turned happily to Roy, who was once again the President of the round. And at that moment, she was starting to enjoy the game. But it was a mere fifteen seconds of fame and glory, because Roy just laid down his cards, showing an even more triumphant smile than that of Riza's. "A Royal Flush." Riza mumbled flatly as she, along with Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Falman stared at the Colonel's cards, as if wishing that their continuous glares would suddenly change the faces of the cards he had put down. But there was really nothing they could do about it; it was a Royal Flush, and Roy just_ had_ to put down his trump card—the Two of Diamonds.

"The President pleads innocent by act of a justified Royal Flush," Roy cheered, as he passed down several bottles of beer.

They all laughed as the bottles were passed around, one for each person to take a swig from. "You're cheating, aren't you? Corrupt President!" Riza laughed after gulping down a mouthful.

Roy laughed at her remark. As his gaze fell onto her, with her hair now let loose and her cheeks red, he couldn't help but smile. Alcohol really did have a great effect on her—bringing about a 360-degree change in her demeanor. From the strict and serious lieutenant came an all-too-happy, giddy, and carefree Riza. It was actually quite cute—the way she laughed, the tint of her cheeks, her golden hair that framed her face, her dark chestnut eyes, her remarks from out of the blue…

"Another round?" She asked, which came as a surprise to Roy. She was the one who involuntarily came here, played, and drank, and yet now she was the one asking for more. She gathered the cards together and took the liberty of shuffling and dealing them.

"I think… I'll pass." Havoc mumbled as he lay down on the carpeted floor, his arms outstretched with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. Riza turned to look at the others, who, now really drunk, decided to follow suit and pass the game. Breda however, wasn't awake to give his decision.

Riza sighed. "Giving up already? It's still early!" She cried as she glanced up at the clock. It was ten past midnight. Yep, it was really early. She heaved another sigh as the men refused to get up from their positions. She threw the cards into a pile at the center of the table, then shifted her position to face Roy, who apparently, was still wide awake, though drunk. "You're not going to give up too, are you?"

Roy smiled. "…often the struggler has given up when he might have captured the victor's cup." He said, quoting a poem he often heard back in his Academy days. Riza's face lit up with recognition. "And he learned to late when the night came down, how close he was to the golden crown." They chanted together happily.

"Success is failure turned inside out,"

"The silver tint of the cloud of doubt,"

"And you can never tell how close you are,"

"It may be near when it seems so far,"

"So stick to the fight when your hardest hit,"

"It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit!" They laughed upon closing the poem. "Hmm…" Roy thought when their laughter died down and silence started to envelop them. "You still want to play?" Riza shrugged. "D' you know the Shit Game?"

Riza's eyes widened. Shit Game? What in the world is that? "No…?"

Roy laughed. "It's fairly easy! We just have to count alternatively, and whenever we come across a number with 7 or a multiple of 7, we say 'shit' instead. Ready? One!"

"Two?"

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Shit!" Riza's mouth formed an 'o' at Roy's response. Who would've thought that even those kinds of words could be used in such simple games? Boys. Yes, boys. It was times like these that made it hard to believe she was working with grown men—with adults. No, they were still boys. He was still a boy; a boy at heart, with his games, his dreams, his ideals.

"We need little boys like him every once in a while too," She thought out loud. Riza clasped her hand over her mouth in a quick, reflex motion as her words reached her ears, realizing that she had said voiced out her thoughts unintentionally.

"Little boys like who?" Roy asked, curious. Riza only smiled and shook her head, trying to dismiss the topic. "Little boys like Mister Mustang—no, like little Roy-boy, or… or little, tiny Fullmetal!"

"You're a bully. Edward would be sure to throw a fit if he were here," Riza remarked, in a tone almost as if she had never been drunk at all, though she was smiling. "But he's not here—that's what you're going to say, right?" She anticipated with a smirk—something rare to come from her.

"No, I was going to say he's underage to go out drinking, even under adult supervision," Roy replied. He had a point; Edward was barely sixteen, barely five feet tall (though his height has no real significance whatsoever), and barely calm to begin with. If Edward had gone out drinking with them, his growth would probably be slowed down even further. And besides, Edward was always out on his travels finding a way to get his and Alphonse's body back. "But your answer's good too." He chimed.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._ It was then that they realized it was awfully quiet, and that they had been wrecking havoc and had been noisy all throughout the night with their little drinking party. It was now a quarter to oh-one-hundred hours, and yet Roy and Riza still remained awake. "Hey Riza—look!" Roy said all of a sudden, just to break the silence, as he pointed at Breda's sleeping figure in the now dark living room.

Riza turned to look immediately, spotting Breda and what seemed to be a fluffy ball of fur beside him. _Hayate-gou!_ She realized, but before she could make a move to take the dog away from Breda (who would be sure to make a fuss when he found out he slept beside the dog), she felt a poke on her cheek. She flung her head around to look at Roy, but this only made the poke deeper into her cheek. "Hey!"

"Gotcha!" He said happily. He flicked his finger at her forehead, which gained him an even louder protest. Then in a quick move, he poked her at the side, a place he remembered from their childhood days.

"No!" Came a high-pitched, girlish shriek from the lieutenant; a sound she had buried long ago in her past, long before she had gone off to Ishbal. And this awakened a memory left long ago behind the large wooden doors of the now decaying manor, in the place the two once called home. "Mustang-san, stop!" The same thing she said the first time he attempted to tickle the then ten-year-old Riza Hawkeye, whom he knew as his master's daughter.

He did not heed her protest—her laughter was uncontrollable, uncontainable now, and was contagious. Perhaps the reason why she chose not to laugh out loud, and perhaps also the reason why she did not drink—for fear of letting down her guard—just like now.

And she found herself on her back, cringing in fear of another 'attack', stifling her laughter, until her breaths were steady and she succumbed to sleep long awaited. "Riza?" He whispered, though mindful that she may have already fallen asleep.

Havoc was sprawled on the side of the table, cigarette and bottle still in hand. Breda was curled up at the opposite side, with Black Hayate dozing off beside him. Falman fell asleep seated on one of the armchairs; he was motionless. Fuery slept leaning on the sofa, his glasses askew on his face. Riza was there too, on the carpeted floor, her hair fanning out from underneath her, arms folded across her side, as if hugging herself. And Roy lay there, in their midst, but he was not asleep. Not yet.

* * *

Despite the great lack of sleep, the tiredness, the hangover, Riza Hawkeye couldn't help but wake up early. Her body clock had forced her awake, and hitting snooze was not an option. She sat up from her position and looked around. Beer bottles, glasses, the pile of cards, the smell of alcohol, their uniforms hanging on the backs of the sofa and on the floor, and for a moment, she asked herself where she was and why she was there, but the memories surfaced in her mind almost instantly.

She couldn't help but laugh; how she found herself in this apartment, in this room, with these five people, she couldn't pinpoint exactly. It was a hasty decision, something uncharacteristic of her, but it was not something she would regret, most probably.

"All work and no play makes Roy, Jean, Heymans, Kain, and Vato dull boys," she said to herself, as she watched the sun rise through the kitchen window. She had wandered into the Colonel's kitchen in search of water to ease her hangover, and had been successful with her mission. She smiled as she lifted her glass to the light, the water reflecting the orange hues of the sunrise. "Tequila Sunrise."

* * *

おわり。

_I don't know what to say about this. I seriously don't know. XD The usual, I guess. That it's random. And yes, I know Riza was way, way out of character. Because she was drunk. Kinda? Yeah? XD? And I actually didn't know how to end it. Gaaah. But this is the longest one I've written so far. 8D _

_Anyway, thanks for reading! :]_

_P.S. The formatting options hate me. XD_

_--_

_Cherry: I'm on Patron Tequila! I'm drunk on margarita!  
Roy: We make the good girls go bad! Hurhurhur. 8D  
Cherry: XDDD _


	15. Untitled II

_SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 102. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT, DO NOT READ THIS. Unless you want to be spoiled._

_Another one of my untitled chapters._

* * *

Darkness. This country has long been cloaked in the shadows of the military and the government—of the Homunculi leading them—and the citizens were unable to see. They were blind, and the truth was unreachable. The light to see and understand the truth behind everything—the wars, the conflicts, the shape of this country, its creation—the light was extinguished. And although the people continued to live on, as if there was nothing wrong, we can't hide the fact that these things were indeed happening, and that it was bringing not peace or progress, but only suffering.

One man stood up, not wanting to dwell in this darkness of lies and fallacies. He was not one who knew the truth, not one who had the light, but he was one who wanted to know, one who wanted to see. He wasn't alone. He had _them_—trusted friends who helped him in achieving his goals. But this idealistic, quixotic young man was a nuisance, a problem for the greedy, gluttonous, proud, lustful, envious, slothful and wrathful leaders who, instead of developing the nation, were destroying it, all to satisfy their selfishness and personal motives.

And this man sparked a flame in the people he knew, and as he gained allies, this fire grew stronger, stronger until its light could no longer be contained, until it was so close to shedding light upon the truth.

But as in the beginning, the light had to be extinguished. And the flame was blown off by the cold, harsh wind, and he found himself in darkness once again. He could feel the truth, he _knew_ the truth, but he couldn't see the truth. In his eyes, everything was pitch black.

"_A man who had a grand vision to save his country loses his eyesight, forever unable to see what his beloved nation will become."_

* * *

_**End.**__  
And again, it's me with my ambiguity. I don't understand how my brain works sometimes. HAHA._


	16. The Little Matchstick Girl

**The Little Matchstick Girl**

_Apples, eggs, sugar, flour, ginger, butter, cinnamon—_

A young girl silently trudged the snow-covered pavement leading to the many store-lined streets in the center of town. Her gloved hands held a piece of paper scrawled with a list of items—ingredients—she had to buy. Her father's manor was situated quite far from the center of town, and it took a rather long, cold walk to get to the town square. Nevertheless, this did not bother the young Riza Hawkeye.

Christmas in this small town was festive and jovial, despite being a community of the middle-class working families. Houses were decked with lights, lanterns, tinsel and holly, adding color to the all-white surroundings. This was what made Riza's long walks enjoyable; walking in this side of town made her feel a sort of warmth that wasn't kindled in her home. Her father was not a Grinch, nor an Ebenezer Scrooge—he did not express a dislike for Christmas or for happiness itself—but he wasn't Santa Claus either. He was simply Berthold Hawkeye, who spent his days in his study, barely seeing his daughter's growth.

Riza had already been used to the cold, non-festive holidays in the Hawkeye manor. For the twelve years of her young life, decorated trees, colorfully wrapped presents, carols, sleigh rides, and milk and cookies were not part of her holidays. She could only see them outside, in the heart of the town, or in her books.

Even if she had to run errands and do chores on this special day, she didn't mind, for it meant having to leave the manor. Riza read through the list once again, reminding herself of what she was there for. Riza, being the only female in the household, took it upon herself to prepare a so-called Christmas dinner. Her father could definitely not be bothered for such thing, and Riza was not so sure he'd let his apprentice do anything unrelated to alchemy.

—_what else do I need?_ She thought as she contemplated on dinner and her budget. She had roughly a thousand cenz—an amount she has saved up, only waiting for something to be spent on. This was the first time she was going to attempt Christmas dinner, since there had never been a sort of "christmas" in her past since her mother passed away.

"_Maybe if you try to do what your mother used to do in those Christmases, then maybe sensei would be… happier." _A certain Mr. Mustang had told her once during their few, small, and yet always memorable chats in his free time. And that was what Riza decided to do.

"Matches?" a faint voice cried out, breaking Riza away from her thoughts of apple pie and gingerbread. At the side of the road, there sat a young girl, just around her age. But unlike Riza, this girl was short and stick-thin, poor and freezing. All she had was a coat and a pair of tattered gloves to warm herself, other than the three boxes of matchsticks she carried with her. Riza stopped in her tracks, her eyes falling to the sight of this young girl.

"Would you like to buy some matches?" She coughed.

After a moment of silence spent in thought, Riza spoke. "I'll buy all your matches then," she smiled gently, handing the girl fifty cenz. This was too much for three boxes, and the girl seemed unable to produce change for fifty cenz. "And you can keep the twenty cenz; I'll give it as a gift."

The matchstick girl's face brightened up, her smile reaching from ear to ear. Riza was smiling too. And all of a sudden, to the matchstick girl's surprise, Riza took off her scarf—a gift from her grandfather—and gave it too to the girl. The girl didn't want to accept it at first, but after much prodding by Riza, eventually did. "It's all right; you'll need it more than I do."

Riza parted with the matchstick girl with a smile on her face. It may be a cliché, but truly, it is better to give than to receive. Seeing the matchstick girl's expression change from sulking and sadness to happiness and joy gave a warm feeling in her heart.

* * *

"I need it more than she does, huh," a girl said grimly as she snuck into the nearby forest. "How can she just give it away so easily? It makes me sick!" With every step deeper into the forest, the girl's voice changed into one that is lower and more male-like. Her features changed as well, as red sparks engulfed the girl until she took form of a man, with long, dark hair and violet eyes.

As a poor, freezing, matchstick girl, he envied her comforts. But buying his matches for more than what was bargained, for giving her scarf that was a gift from someone dear—for her act of kindness—he was pissed off.

"Why is it that in this time of year, always, always, humans are so giving?! So… charitable? So kind! You still have the nerve to give, when you receive none at all? What's with this Christmas anyway? Giving and sharing and… l-love. It's sickening." He stomped away, tugging at the scarf wrapped around his neck until it came off, throwing it on the snow-covered ground in frustration.

It was the real-life Grinch, the man—no, the homunculus—who hated Christmas because of the love and kindness that filled the air. It was in this season that people, despite their lack of several things, give to others and spread the happiness instead of wishing for others' misfortune. To love one's enemies, and to be kind instead of envious, this was opposite to his nature.

Humans are weaker, but despite the suffering, hardships, and losses, they continue to live. They always have someone to help them up, someone to _give_ them strength. Even when they make mistakes, there will always be someone to accept them, someone who will _love_ them despite their shortcomings.

The human heart is indeed a complicated thing, where despite anger, there lives mercy, and despite hatred, there lives love. There is no human who is all greedy, or all wrathful. Even the proudest human bows down. This is probably because humans have the nature to love.

And this is what he _envies_ of them.

* * *

おわり。

_Happy Holidays! :D_

_  
~Cherry_


	17. Last Christmas

**Last Christmas**

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc sighed as he received a steaming mug from Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Along with the change of the seasons, the Lieutenant also changed the choice of drink in the break menu. From the usual tea, came hot chocolate fitting the wintry season.

Havoc watched as his superior officer, Colonel Roy Mustang, tried to clear up the fogged windows, but to no avail. The snow continued to fall and was adding more and more to the white. Havoc sighed.

Winter—the Christmas season—must really bring miracles, for the whole Mustang team was away from their desks, taking a break from work, and Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn't firing her guns at them. She was serving them hot chocolate, and she wasn't complaining that they weren't doing their work.

"Something wrong, Havoc?" she asked, her expression carried a look of genuine concern. Despite her strict demeanor, her kindness shone through. Havoc was looking rather down. If there was something she learned from Colonel Mustang, it was to look after one's subordinates. Upon hearing the Lieutenant's voice, Havoc looked up at her and forced a smile on his face, insisting that he was all right.

"No, nothing," Havoc replied as he took a sip from his drink. "It's just freezing in here, that's all." He shrugged.

But Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda knew better. "Nah, it's a girl, I bet." He quipped, earning him a glare from Havoc. This was rather odd, as usually, upon uttering lines like these, Havoc would fall into his tale of another one of his unfortunate events with women. But today, however, was different. It seemed he didn't want to talk about it at all.

"I told you, it's nothing," He insisted. "I just remembered this girl—ah, never mind." He started, but cut himself off before really beginning his recollection.

"Don't start a story you won't finish!" Breda remarked as he refilled his mug with chocolate. It was, apparently, his third for the afternoon.

Roy gave up on the windows and grabbed his mug as he took a seat beside Havoc on the couch in the staff room. He addressed them in general, "If he doesn't want to talk about it, then let him be," Havoc nodded in agreement, as if saying, 'yeah, get off my case!' Then Roy turned to Havoc and said suddenly, "But you know, Breda's right. If you're going to start something, you really should finish it." Riza only shook her head.

"So much for letting me be, huh?" Havoc mumbled as he shifted in his seat. Although he had been talking about his failed loves before, this was rather… awkward. First, it was only a childhood crush, nothing big. Second, it was someone they all knew. And third, she was actually… well, within sight and hearing.

"It's no big deal really," Havoc continued. His eyes fell to the bottom of his mug, which had already been drained of its contents a few moments ago. "It was just a childhood thing."

"Ah, so the Colonel has nothing to do with it then." Breda side-commented. Riza looked at him with a stern, you-didn't-have-to-say-that kind of face, Roy looked as if he wanted to laugh, and Havoc glared at him again. Fuery and Falman, on the other hand, were speechless.

"No," Havoc replied sharply. "It doesn't have _anything_ to do with the Colonel." He said, his tone was serious, as if saying this was a no-nonsense topic. _Okay, so it has a _little_ connection to the Colonel. Just a little._ "Long story short, I just remembered this cadet I liked back in the Academy. But I figured she wasn't one for things like… I don't know. She wasn't like the other female cadets—even if they were cadets, they still had dreams of love and romance and stuff—"

_Rebecca?_ The thought made its way instantly into Riza's mind. Of course, Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina was one of them. She had been telling Riza about helping her find a good guy in Central after all. But the thought quickly escaped her mind as Havoc continued his story. _For some reason, I think I know who this girl is._

"—she was different though." Havoc's expression grew lighter now, as if he just wanted to laugh at it all. "I guess the reason I feel a bit down about it is that I remembered this one winter time in the Academy—I gave her a gift, but I found out that she gave it to someone else."

"What did you give her then?" Roy asked, now intrigued with his subordinate's tale.

"Chocolate," was Havoc's simple reply.

"Oh, it was heart-shaped, wasn't it?" Riza suddenly spoke, and that caught the attention of the other men. She noticed the stares immediately. "Well, I guess she just wanted to share. Maybe she didn't want to keep it all to herself. Perhaps she just wanted all the girls to feel Cadet Havoc's… love and kindness." She smiled.

"Do you know the girl, Lieutenant?" This was getting more and more intriguing, and Roy was curious. After all, Riza and Havoc had attended the same Academy back in East City.

Riza was quite taken aback by the question, but she instantly gained back her composure. "Well, yes, I do know her. Quite." She shifted her eyes from Roy to Havoc, throwing him a knowing glance.

"She does, she does," Havoc backed. "Anyway, after that, I gave up on her. I figured she liked someone else. I think it was another cadet from Central." He looked at Riza. Havoc said the last words—_another cadet from Central_—with such force and emphasis that it seemed he was implying something. Riza almost choked on her drink upon hearing those words from Havoc. She could've sworn he was smirking.

Forget intriguing. This was suspicious. It seems Havoc and Riza were communicating on a wavelength far unreachable by Roy's radar. "Really? I didn't know that! She never told me anything of the sort." Riza tried to look pleased and surprised at the revelation, but was, for the first time probably, failing.

"Well, at least she didn't use projectile motion problems to say she wanted to fire a gun through your head! But then again, she never used science problems to illustrate her annoyance ever since." Havoc laughed.

Riza fought the urge to reply—and to laugh. Past is past, but looking back at it, it becomes both funny and awkward at the same time. Who would've thought she'd be working with Cadet Havoc again, right?

Roy wasn't paying attention to the last statement; he was busy thinking about the cadet from Central whom Havoc's childhood love interest liked. "Ah, that Central cadet must've been Hughes! He was really popular with the girls back then." He happily concluded. Riza and Havoc simply nodded, keeping their laughter within themselves.

* * *

"Hawkeye!" a young Cadet Havoc whispered as he scooted across the aisles between the bookshelves and made his way to a table empty except for the one cadet he had called. The cadet did not look at him, but only buried her head in her books even further. He sat down on the chair beside her and opened his text book.

"Hawkeye, you get this problem, right?" He pointed at the first number on the open page. Cadet Hawkeye looked over the page, with Cadet Havoc waiting expectantly for a reply. She turned back to her books.

"Why don't you go ask Breda?" she asked. It wasn't that she didn't want to help poor Cadet Havoc, she just figured that Cadet Breda, who, despite his looks, was actually the top in their class, could explain it better to him. "It's a simple problem. If you understand the concept, you should be able to get the answer."

"That's the problem! I don't get it!" his voice got louder with every word. Hawkeye hushed him hastily, wary of the officers around them.

"Read the problem for me." She said, still focused on her other books.

Cadet Havoc obliged. "A rifle with a muzzle velocity of 100 meters per second was fired horizontally from a tower. Neglecting air resistance, where will the bullet be one second later?"

"Hmm," she thought, finally looking up from her own studies. "You know, if we were in the firing range, the bullet would be through your head." she answered flatly.

Havoc paused and contemplated on the answer. "Wait, that's not part of the options!"

Hawkeye sighed. "Yeah. Thank you for the chocolate, by the way. They told me it's been awhile since they've eaten chocolate, so they wanted me to thank you. So thanks." She gathered her books and left.

"Oh, and the answer's a hundred meters downrange."

* * *

_Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away._

_

* * *

  
_

おわり。

_Happy Holidays! :D_

_  
~Cherry_


	18. Cure to the Common Cold

**Cure to the Common Cold**

Roy's breath fogged up the glass window as he sighed. It was a very cold winter day, and as usual, he had lots of paperwork to finish. To make matters worse, Riza had not yet arrived. The lieutenant's desk was still empty and unoccupied; pristine as she had left it the evening before. _Why is she late? It's very unlike her to be late. Is she playing hooky? Wait, she can't. But why is she absent? And she didn't even bother to—_the phone rang out all of a sudden, with Roy almost jumping from his seat. He scrambled to lift the receiver and pressed it against his ear.

"Colonel Mustang, you have a call from a private line." _Riza? Is it Riza?_

"Put me through." He said, trying not to sound too anxious. He leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his pen as he waited. It took awhile until he heard a greeting; the wordless moment filled with sounds of things falling to the floor, a person sneezing, a dog barking, and sniffs in between.

A hoarse voice, almost unrecognizable, greeted him at long last. "Hello, Colonel,"—a cough—"Sorry. It's Lieutenant Hawkeye, sir." She coughed again, though muffled. She must have put her hand over the receiver.

"Are you sick?" Roy asked, although it seemed quite obvious.

"I'm afraid I am, sir. I can't come to work today, so—" A sneeze. "Please do your work, even without me around. Although I doubt you'll do that; this seems to be a perfect opportunity for you to play hooky, but I suggest you just finish your paperwork. That is, unless you want to spend the holidays in office. I'm pretty sure neither of us would want to though." He was barely listening; he was fighting a mental battle of whether or not he should leave for her apartment.

_She'll get really upset if you don't finish your paperwork.  
—__But she's sick! Someone has to take care of her! Although Black Hayate is well-trained, you can't expect a dog to take care of her, can you?!_

_She's going to beat you up when she gets better.  
—__She won't get better if you don't visit her._

_Do you want to die?  
—__She can't kill you for being concerned._

_But finishing paperwork is her only wish for you to do while she's gone! At least grant it for her, just this once.  
—__This is the only chance you can get to skip work _and_ be with her at the same time. See? Double merits._

And "leave for her apartment" wins. "Hello? Colonel? Are you still there?"

"Ah. Yeah. Sorry about that," he said, as he stood up from his desk. "Well, I hope you get well soon, Lieutenant. Now go get some rest. I'll see you soon, goodbye." He hung up, took his coat, and headed straight for the door; his other subordinates watching him as he was about to leave—he really is going to see her _soon_.

"I'm going out. Second Lieutenant Havoc, you're in charge today." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed all questions and complaints; the second-highest ranking officer in the room sighed as Roy's figure disappeared from their sight at the doors closing behind him. _This is going to be a long, long day._

_

* * *

_

_Knock. Knock. Knock._ With eyes puffy and nose red, Riza sluggishly stood from her bed, box of tissue in her hand. Someone was knocking at her door for the past few minutes now, and simply ignoring it didn't do her any good. As she left her bedroom, Black Hayate trailed behind her, whimpering as if telling her to just get back to bed and rest. However, with the knocking, it seemed highly unlikely.

"Yes?" Riza sniffed as she cracked the door open, revealing a raven-haired man in the standard military winter coat. A man she knew as Roy Mustang. He smiled sheepishly at her, already anticipating a loud, yet rather sickly scolding from her. She ushered him into her apartment, hurriedly closing the door before any more of the cold winter wind went in.

"I thought I told you to stay at work," she mumbled, wiping her nose with a tissue. Roy looked at her with utmost concern. "Really, Colonel. It's just a cold; I can ma—" she sneezed. "—manage." She took another tissue. Roy looked around her apartment, which was, surprisingly, quite in a pandemonium state. Dishes were left unwashed at the sink, empty tissue boxes lay scattered on the floor, and by the number of crumpled up, used tissue that have seemingly missed the trash can, it seems a blizzard went through the apartment.

"If you can prove to me that you can really manage on your own, then I'll go back and finish my paperwork," he said. He led her back to her bedroom and prompted her to get some rest. "Until then, I'll be here. So… if you need anything, just tell me." And with that, he left her to sleep.

_Okay, maybe I should clean up a bit._ He thought as he paced the apartment. Tying a bandana around his head and slipping into one of Riza's aprons, he started tidying up the apartment, much to his surprise. Roy was never really the type to clean up after someone else—he'd always have subordinates to do it for him, anyway. Like Riza. But of course, he knew how to do _some_ stuff. He could clean to save his life.

Hours went by unnoticed; Roy was on a roll—he had finished washing the dishes, threw out the garbage, cleaned the windows, swept the floor, and folded up the laundry—the last of which deemed to be the bloodiest task (if you get what I mean). He glanced up at the clock, telling him it was a quarter past eleven o' clock. _Now what?_ He asked himself, plopping down on one of the chairs in the dining room. _Lunch?_ He dreaded the thought. It only meant he had to cook, and… well, it made him wish there was such a thing as culinary alchemy.

_What's this? _He mused as he opened the kitchen cabinets, only to find it empty. Not a single speck of food in sight. Not even dog food. _What does she eat?!_ Eyes wandering over to the refrigerator, he finds a note plastered on to the front. "Dog food, eggs, chicken, bread, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, onions, celery, milk…?" A grocery list.

"Roy," he spun around to see the owner of the voice, Riza, who was now standing at the hall between her bedroom and kitchen with a tired, newly-awaken, yet still smiling face. She was watching him, apron and all, as he was reading out the grocery list she had posted that morning. It amused her to think that a colonel was standing in her own kitchen, with a bandana wrapped around his head and an apron covering him. And it was Roy, best of all. "If you're going out, please buy some tissue."

He nodded as he watched the lieutenant, still donned in pajamas, retreat back to her room. Slipping the grocery list into his pocket, he got out of the apron and bandana ensemble, grabbed his coat, and left for the grocery store down the street. The cold weather, which he had already forgotten, greeted him once again as he left the apartment complex.

"The young lady's sick, eh?" a kind-looking old man asked him as he stepped foot on the snow-covered pavement. It was the landlord; he gazed up at the apartment building—he was obviously referring to Riza. "Nice of you to visit her." He smiled.

"Yes; I was just about to buy groceries," Roy replied, hands in his pockets. "So I could go and make lunch. But I'm actually having problems with that too." He laughed, thoughts reverting back to the prospect of lunch and the possibility of him setting the apartment on fire (_Please, no._)

The old man chuckled. "Chicken soup; it's the tried and tested remedy. And honey milk tea does wonders as well." He patted Roy on the back; a gesture of well-wishing. "Good luck on that now, boy. I hope the young lady gets well soon." He smiled and waved off, as he entered the apartment complex and Roy set out onto the sidewalk.

* * *

"Riza?" Roy said softly, as he entered her bedroom, tray in hand. At his call—and possibly at the smell of food—Riza awoke and sat up. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and coughed. He set down the bed tray in front of her; she was served steaming hot chicken soup and honey milk tea—the landlord's orders.

After a couple of sips and Roy's anxious looks, Riza spoke. "You cooked this?" She asked, trying to suppress her laughter. Not that it tasted bad or anything; it just made her… happy that he was going through all these extents because she's sick.

"It's bad, isn't it? I can't cook to save my life," He sighed. He led a (not really) busy life after all, and he had grown accustomed to eating out—be it at HQ's mess hall, or some restaurant with a (pretty, and always different) date. "I guess I can fry people, but not food. Haha!" He laughed. She shook her head in disagreement and continued eating. Her eyes held the honesty of telling him it wasn't bad at all, and her smile was thanks enough.

"Thanks for the meal," she mumbled, as she emptied the soup bowl and drank the last drop of honey milk. She could already feel herself getting better. "It was… really good. For someone who fries people better than chicken." She joked; Roy heaved a sigh of relief. For a first time cook like himself, to be acknowledged like that was like chicken soup to his soul.

"Oh, Lieutenant Hawkeye! You're back," Sergeant Major Fuery said as Riza arrived at the office the next day. "How are you feeling?" He asked. For someone who came down with the cold, Riza took an awfully quick recovery—she was back in tip-top shape, as if she had never been sick in the first place. The others—namely Breda, Havoc, and Falman—turned to look at her, all equally amazed at her speedy recovery as well.

"I'm fine, thanks." She smiled as she deposited the day's work on Roy's table before sitting down at her own desk. "How was work yesterday?" She asked nonchalantly, flipping through some documents. Even without looking at them, she knew the men were exchanging nervous glances. _It's times like these that I wonder if I really work for the military and not in a daycare center._

"Ugh," a sniffle came from the door, from where came in the Colonel—back slouched, nose red, and body drained of energy. He limped over to his desk, and the sight of the overwhelming pile of paperwork paled his face all the more. He slumped into his seat and leaned on his desk, with his arms acting as a pillow for his head. "No more, please." He mumbled, though barely audible.

"What's wrong, Colonel? Got the cold?" the men asked, exchanging worried looks. Riza, however, remained calm and composed as usual. She sighed and left the office, only to return with a warm mug in hand. Roy looked up as she set it atop his table; she was smiling. They hovered over to the table, only to find that this steaming mug contained the ever so common milk and honey. "Cure to the common cold?" they asked, curiously.

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye only smiled in response.

* * *

おわり。

_Happy Holidays! :D_

_  
~Cherry_


	19. Change the World

_Happy New Year! 8D __I'm late, I know, haha. Anyway. Another spur-of-the-moment fic. Just felt the urge to write and post this. I don't know how I feel about the drabble in its entirety though. Haha. Cheers to happier FMA chapters in the future! Haha._

_Credits: Hagaren by Hiromu Arakawa. "Change" by Carrie Underwood. "...change that this world needs to be." from CNN's Hero of the Year 2009, my fellow Filipino, Efren Penaflorida. 8D_

_Hmm. I wonder whose POV this is. o_O Seriously, I wonder. XD__

* * *

_

**Change the World**

From the beginning, he knew that it wasn't an easy task. From the beginning, it all seemed to be such a long way ahead. From the beginning, he knew that he would have to go through a lot more challenges to achieve his goals. From the beginning, he had that flame of determination, that spark of ambition, the light of a noble idea, the fire of a grand vision.

In the middle of everything, he lost parts of himself, lost in the confusion, lost in desperation, lost in pain. In the middle of everything, he lost people he cared about, lost those who he thought would stay with him till he succeeded. But in the middle of everything, he lost his fears. In the middle of everything, he managed to gain more understanding, more knowledge, and more strength.

And towards the end, he succeeded, though not entirely as he saw it in his dreams. Towards the end, everything turned out okay. Although he wasn't as he used to be, towards the end, he became a better person. Towards the end… he realized—we realized—it wasn't really the end. Not just yet.

Not yet, because with every end comes a new beginning. And now, his dream is starting to become a reality. Because he managed to bring a change in himself, and he managed to bring a change in us, soon, he can bring a change to Amestris too.

We all have dreams of changing the world, in one way or another. It's human nature. Humans want to be able to leave a legacy in this world, something they would be remembered by when they leave. Humans aren't fools for dreaming something like that. It's not having dreams that makes one a fool. It's having dreams and not acting to make them reality that does.

He had dreams. Dreams from his childhood that he carried over in his adulthood, fulfilled in the middle of his life's journey. He dreamed to make a change. We dreamed to make the change. And because of that, we will be the change this world needs to be a happier, better place.

* * *

_Don't listen to them when they say you're just a fool, just a fool to believe you can change the world._

おわり。


	20. What If?

**What If?**

Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Desk neat and nearly cleaned of all the papers.

Black hair. Dark, onyx eyes. Desk messy and filled with piles of paperwork.

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

Colonel Roy Mustang.

. . .

They seem to be total opposites, but if you think about it real hard, if you observe them, if you really know them, you'd say they have chemistry. Actually, they have chemistry _and_ history. Roy and Riza had known each other since their childhood, and even to this day, they are still together.

But what if Riza didn't join the military?

_If Riza didn't join the military, she'd probably be… back in her hometown, all alone after the death of Master Hawkeye. Or maybe not. Maybe she'd be living a happier life, without worrying about a useless Flame Alchemist on rainy days, or homunculi ruling the country, or anything else of the sort. She'd be happy, probably with a small shop of her own—she's a smart and clever woman, she'll be able to handle that sort of stuff—and probably with a son or two. And a husband. _

Roy shook his head; Riza being married off to someone else… it was heartbreaking. So okay, let's keep Riza in the military. But what if underneath all that strictness, underneath the neat, snappy military uniform, underneath all that discipline (that would put some men to shame), what if after all that, Riza was actually, deep inside, a lolita?

_If Riza was a lolita, she'd be wearing dresses and skirts whenever she went out. Ribbons and frills and… pink. Okay, never mind._

Riza in a skirt would have been a dream; but apparently, Riza and pink wasn't. So forget the pink frilly dresses. If Riza wasn't a woman, what would she be like?

_If Riza were a man, she'd be… scary. "Hey Colonel, do your paperwork, or else." And I'll have to face her—his—guns and fists of doom. Probably. Or maybe I could fight back, since she's… she's a he. No, Riza is better off as a woman._

Riza becoming a man would definitely be hard to imagine, and it would definitely be scary to come true. But what about becoming an alchemist? If Riza were an alchemist, what would she be like?

More over, what if Riza was the _Flame_ Alchemist and not Roy?

_If Riza was the Flame Alchemist… firstly, I wouldn't be here. She would've been the Hero of Ishbal, probably. And if she was there… it would've been harder on her. Because Riza is not really a woman of violence and killing. No, killing isn't enjoyable; not for her, not for me. If Riza was the Flame Alchemist, she'd be the Colonel, and I'd be the Lieutenant. Probably._

"_Mustang! Do your paperwork!" She'd say, as she sits behind my desk—or her desk, if she were the boss—and instead of guns, she'd threaten us with the pyrotex gloves._

_If she was the Flame Alchemist, if she was the Colonel, if she was the boss… we'd all be dead by now._

_Or she'd be a worse slave driver._

But what if Riza didn't join the military, wasn't lolita, and wasn't an alchemist or Roy's boss? What if Riza was simply Riza?

_If Riza didn't join the military after Master Hawkeye's death, I'd take care of her. Even if I'm in the military, even if I'm an alchemist. I'd take care of her because that was Master Hawkeye's wish. And because Riza is close to my heart—lolita or not. If Riza was simply Riza, if she wasn't Lieutenant Hawkeye… I… I could marry her._

_And she'd live in a beautiful home, in the peaceful countryside, with even more beautiful children… and…_

"_Bye, Roy! Do your best in your work today! Don't forget to finish all your paperwork! Oh, and before you come home tonight, buy some dog food for Hayate. And then you're on dish duty tonight. And prepare a story for Roy Jr. too~!"_

…_and she'd still be a slave driver._

* * *

**End.**

_That was random. :)) I swear to Ishbala and Leto that this chapter is soooo OOC. I swear. XD (Not that I worship and/or believe them or anything, haha.) Hahaha. Well, this chapter has been lying around amongst my many, many files, and... well, I guess, to make up for the past days/weeks/months oddness in my updates, I decided to post this one. Though it is OOC. XDDD School has taken its toll on my imagination, I think. XD I'm stuck in writer's block, and I haven't even gone past the rising action for my novel-fic submission to the FMABBC. --and so I ramble and digress._

_Thanks for reading. 8D_

_To all those who continuously read this piece of randomness, thank you so much. And sorry if sometimes it's getting crappy, lol. Don't worry, soon, I'm going to post some good stuff here. XD (I can't post them right now since I'm submitting them for the FMABBC, lol.)_

_Thanks. :)_


	21. The Laws of Work

_These laws were based from the "Laws of Graduation" (or something) which I got from my friend, who got it from her brother. These laws were, in turn, based from Newton's Laws of Motion, thus the similarities. XD

* * *

_

**The Laws of Work**

First Law: The Law of Procrastination

Lieutenant Hawkeye sighed. It was another day at East Headquarters, and as usual, it was another day full of work. Riza frowned as she walked towards her superior officer's table; it was overflowing with files and papers as it has always been, and with a fresh stack of paperwork in her hands, she didn't know where to place them.

Colonel Mustang looked up at her, to the papers she was holding, and back down to his cluttered desk. "More paperwork. How fun," he said monotonously as he glared at the papers that were placed on top of his desk, willing them to disappear though he knew it was impossible. "They never stop coming, do they?" Roy folded his arms across his chest as he leaned back into his chair.

"They probably will once you start working on them, sir." Riza replied before walking back to her desk to finish her own paperwork. Hers was nothing compared to Roy's though.

Roy wasn't the only one encountering problems with the papers; the other men—Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery—also had a lot in their hands. This wasn't a surprise for Riza though; she'd been working with them for such a long time now, and… well, you could say she already knows their ways with work. Always waiting for the deadline, for the last minute—that is, unless she takes action quickly.

What kind of action, you ask?

_Click_. The room fell silent. _Click_. A couple of nervous gulps and glances. And the room remained in silence, all except for the sounds of flipping pages and scratching pens.

_Colonel Mustang and his men will remain in procrastination unless acted upon by an external force__ (i.e. Lieutenant Hawkeye's gun threats)._

Second Law: The Law of Motivation

It was already midday and the sun was out of sight, hidden by the thick storm clouds that graced the sky, or perhaps it was the fogged up windows that blocked the sun (and snow) outside. But most of all, it was _cold_. Instead of white snow littering the office, it was the white of papers in Colonel Mustang's office.

And although it really should be warmer inside, it wasn't; the men in Mustang's unit were shivering. They could hardly do any work, as they were more concerned with warming their hands than getting them to sign papers. But why are they cold? They surely have their coats, right? No one in their right mind would go out in the middle of winter without the right clothes.

But if you work with Lieutenant Hawkeye, it's highly likely that they'll get confiscated. No, Riza is not a sadist (no, she's more like a slave driver), she's just trying to make favorable outcomes from this seemingly unproductive atmosphere in Eastern HQ.

"You're horrible, Lieutenant Hawkeye," Havoc said, his voice quivering. "No coats, no tea, no coffee, no hot chocolate—no warm thing until we finish our work?! But this is going to take forever! We're going to freeze to death before we finish all of this!"

Despite her comrade's desperate complaint, Riza did not give in. Although Riza was kind, she was also strict. Very strict. "Just think that down here, we're already very warm. Imagine all the others up at North Headquarters. Or even worse, up at Briggs. It's much, much colder there." she said. In her arms she held several black coats—all belonging to her fellow soldiers.

"At least they get to keep their coats! Even Major General Armstrong wears her coat all the time!"

Riza turned to look at her superior, Roy Mustang. He wasn't doing his work either; he was curled up in his chair, trying to warm himself even for a little bit. But upon catching Riza's gaze, he sat up properly, picked up his pen, and sighed, "Just do the work; the longer we try to postpone it, the longer she's going to keep the gloves, scarves, coats, and coffee."

A small smile crept up to Riza's lips. She nodded.

"Wow, Chief," Havoc mumbled as he picked up his pen and continued his work. "I never thought I'd hear that from you."

_The age__ (_a_) of the work process is directly proportional to the object fancied (_F_) which is held hostage by the adjutant and is inversely proportional to the motivation (_m_) shown by the officer. As the motivation goes to zero, the age of work extends to infinity, and thus, the object fancied can never be attained._

Third Law: The Law of Distraction

It was the first time it ever happened in East Headquarters. And because it was the first time, the men in Colonel Mustang's team were rather amazed at the new gift from Lieutenant Colonel Hughes of Central. Central was very much ahead of the times when it came to innovations like these; imagine how a small cube with different colors can amaze grown, adult men.

Ah, the wonders of the Rubik's cube. The small package from the Lieutenant Colonel arrived on Roy's desk yesterday morning. They were apprehensive of opening it at first, for they feared that it might be a photo album of Elysia or something of the sort. But it wasn't. It was a toy; just a harmless little toy—or so they thought.

Lieutenant Hawkeye was pretty lax yesterday, letting the men play and take their turns with their new-found hobby. To her, it seems you just had to mess up the colors and try to fix the cube in the fastest way possible, by turning and twisting it. It required logic. But they were talking about things like permutations and algorithms (they were reading the manual).

But she couldn't just let them play all day, and she made sure they knew that. So the cube-twisting stopped. The multi-colored Rubik's cube sat on top of Colonel Mustang's desk, untouched and unsolved. All seemed well; the boys were disciplined.

That is, until she stopped looking. _An opening!_ Colonel Mustang snatched the cube from atop his desk and hid it away from the Lieutenant's view. With one hand, he struggled to twist the pieces of the cube, trying to solve it while at the same time, reading the documents on his desk. Multitasking, you could call it. It seemed fine at first, until his other hand involuntarily let go of his pen, and his eyes were stuck on the colored squares instead of the black text on his work.

Of course, the Colonel wouldn't get away with playing the cube. The sound of the twisting cube reached the ears of the other men quickly, and they were now arguing, albeit silently, over who would get to solve the cube next. Colonel Mustang had already finished solving the cube when the others had finished their "argument". It seems Havoc won this round; Roy twisted the cube out of its order and quickly threw it over to Havoc.

Lieutenant Hawkeye was watching them behind the documents she was reading.

She'll let it pass. They'll get bored with it eventually.

Or not. Havoc was taking a long time to solve it, and the others were getting impatient. So impatient they were already watching him attempt to solve the cube, and they have completely neglected their paperwork. "Okay, that's enough, save it for later," Lieutenant Hawkeye said quietly as she stood up and took the cube from Havoc's hands. They all wore faces of shock.

Lieutenant Hawkeye sat down behind her desk again. Mission: Confiscate the Cube – Successful. She stared down at the Rubik's cube she held in her hand. After a moment of thought and a few quick twists and turns, the cube was in order, and Lieutenant Hawkeye picked up her pen and resumed her work as usual. The men exchanged surprised looks before turning to finish their own works as well.

_For every action towards work, there is an equal and opposite distraction._

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_A/N: The second law is quite confusing, yes? XD In simpler terms, I guess it just means that the length of time it takes you to finish your work depends on what the incentive is, and on how motivated you are to get that incentive. So it follows that… if the prize or merit for doing something is not worth or to equal the work you're doing, you'd be less inclined to do the work. XD I hope that made sense. XD_

_Thank you to my wonderful beta, Mere! :)_

_(Submitted for the FMABBC. XD)_


	22. Tears

_Hello. :) Another one of my submissions for the FMABBC. Riza POV. A bit angsty--for Riza, I guess. XD_

_The idea for this came up when I was watching (er, re-watching?) the episode of Master Hawkeye's death (Brotherhood). I just noticed that he "cried" before he died, lol. Well, there were tears! And thus, this one-shot was conceived. XD_

_Anyway, let's move on to the story. :)  
Special thanks to Mere, my beta._

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**Tears**

It was around this time, somewhere between autumn and winter; right after the last leaf has fallen, and yet before the first snowflake fell to the ground. It was around this time that I saw Mr. Mustang—no, the Colonel, who had just graduated from the Academy back then—again, now a soldier, after so many years. It was around this time that my father died.

I was never close to him. As far as my memory goes, I could never recall a moment in my life that I spent happily with him. He was always locked up in his study, always doing his research, always perfecting his art. He was a distant man, and although I am his blood and flesh, I could not relate to him at all.

The day Mr. Mustang returned was not a pleasant one. Although I was overjoyed to find him at our doorstep once again, the events that transpired before and after that were not as joyful. My father was terribly sick; I never knew the cause of his illness, for he rarely left his room and he refused to see a doctor.

It has been years since I have been given the responsibility to bear and keep my father's prized research, and it has been years since I've suffered the weight of it on my back. I have suffered the weight of knowing that the research my father has spent his whole life to perfect lies on me; suffered the weight of knowing that it is my job to protect this research until the person who is fitting to decode the secrets of flame alchemy comes.

And as much as I was grateful for his arrival—finally affirming to myself that indeed, Mr. Mustang would be the only person rightful enough to decode my father's work—as much as I had a surge of positive emotions, long since forgotten after his enrolment in the military, I had a flood of negativities as well. I was grateful that at least, in some way, the weight I carry would be lightened. I was optimistic; perhaps with his return, father would, somehow, miraculously recover. I was… simply happy to see him again. And yet, I was worried; my father detested the military, more than anything else. And to find out that Mr. Mustang had tied himself to it, my father would definitely not be pleased. I feared the disappointment that perhaps, instead of recovering, my father's condition would worsen. I was in doubt; what if Mr. Mustang wasn't what he really was? If his dreams were false or forgotten?

That time, between autumn and winter, I wanted to cry. I didn't understand why I felt that way back then. I had come to think it must be because of Mr. Mustang's return. But it wasn't. Then I thought perhaps because I could no longer keep all those emotions inside, pent up for so many years—years of silent, blind obedience, fear, and pain. But now I understand why; it was because I felt he was going to leave.

Years later, in the same mid-season, I found myself in front of his resting place. I was no longer just Riza. I was Riza Hawkeye as an individual, who had her own life in her hands, who did everything based on her own belief and decisions. I defied him by affiliating myself with the system he hated all his life. But I still obeyed him; I fulfilled my responsibility of keeping his research, I have passed it on. And as I look at his name, _Berthold Hawkeye_, I get mixed feelings of bitterness and sadness.

We lived in the same house, we shared the same name, and we had the same blood. But despite all that, even though we were "family", it seemed we were worlds apart. I didn't know much about him, save for his name, his face, and his bond with my mother. He was my father. And for a father to take his own daughter as a vessel for his research, without giving her the choice, it was like a slap in the face, a stab on the back—it was betrayal, I first thought. Perhaps, I was not really a "daughter" to him, but merely just a child. Strange as it is to come from me, I felt unloved by my own father.

"Lieutenant," Colonel Mustang told me once, as we stood in front of his teacher's grave, "you know, he did love you." He didn't look at me; his eyes were on his teacher's tombstone, engraved with his name and his years. It was a simple resting place, for a man whose art was so great.

"What makes you say that, sir?"

"Before he… died," he said in a soft voice, only slightly louder than the autumn breeze that blew, or the leaves that rustled on the ground. "The last thing he did was to entrust me with taking care of his daughter." he continued, turning his gaze to me.

I couldn't bring myself to respond then. The two of us fell silent. And as the cold autumn breeze blew once again, something seemed to have prickled my eyes; and contrasting the wind's chill was something warm against my cheek.

_It was a silent passing; he s__hed tears._

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おわり。


	23. Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

_I was urged to write this after watching Alice in Wonderland, haha._

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Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast**

My clock has probably been reset; I don't usually wake at this hour. I can hear the eldest of the girls—Elizabeth, not Madeline, or Jacqueline, or Vanessa, or Kate—down in the kitchen, already preparing the day's first meal.

Ever since the girls had come to live in my palace, I never did them myself. And because of that, I've grown accustomed to waiting for myself to wake on my own, without any worries of what I have to do, or at least wait until they call me down for breakfast.

Today, however, I woke up much earlier than I always do. I couldn't bring myself to sleep again, so I rose and descended to the kitchen. True enough, Elizabeth was there, back facing me, preparing the traditional bacon, eggs, and toast. This was no surprise for me, usually, but there I was, standing in the doorway, quite dumbfounded. The peculiar thing that struck me that early morning wasn't really Elizabeth and her cooking, but rather, the young man I found sitting at the breakfast nook, with one arm folded underneath his head, which was lying on the table, and the other arm dangling at his side.

This young man wasn't Elizabeth's fiancé for all I can remember. Robert did not have raven-black hair, nor was he in the military. No, the only man—boy—I know with such characteristics is...

"...Roy," I heard Elizabeth say softly, almost more motherly than I could, "I'm sorry about Mr. Hawkeye." She caressed the top his head, in her usual graceful manner, before she popped two slices of bread into the toaster.

My Roy-boy is back. Who would've known! And so soon, at that. "He's gone... gone, and he hasn't taught me about his alchemy." Roy mumbled in reply, drowning in grief, regret, and loss.

"He hasn't? Then what have you been doing, all those years?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief. I understand her; Roy has spent most of his adolescent years under the tutelage of the alchemist from the small town in East—and now to find out he hasn't been taught the alchemy he wanted to learn... "—playing with his daughter?" Elizabeth's tone grew light, and a smirk was upon her lips. She was teasing Roy again, with the alchemist's daughter—Riza, I think she was called.

He usually would've been saying there's nothing going on, they're just friends, she's like a sister, or he would simply stray away from the topic. This morning was different though, because he didn't react to his sister's teasing. Instead, he approached the topic even further by saying, "Riza... I need to—want to—have to take care of her. Master Hawkeye's last wish." He mumbled.

Elizabeth chuckled. "But how can you take care of her? Will you take her to Central?" She asked, riding along Roy's reverie. "Hmm... she can live here! It would be nice to have another girl around—but if you want to house her somewhere else... that would be nice too."

"No, I can't... I don't have much on my pay check right now..." Roy went on, still fixed in his position. "But if I become a State Alchemist, I'll probably get more money. Yeah, I should be a State Alchemist."

"But if you haven't been taught the alchemy by Mr. Hawkeye, then how will you become a State Alchemist?"

Roy had completely disregarded her question. "And then when I become a State Alchemist, I'll buy myself an apartment. Or maybe I'll buy Madame a new palace."–how nice of him to think of me—"And then I'll work my way up and become the Fuhrer. And then I can change the way Amestris goes; none of this Ishbalan madness."

Elizabeth smiled. "Big dreams you've got, little Roy-boy," she ruffled his hair; he still didn't budge. "I think the Academy's made you a tad bit mad." She chuckled as she set down a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.

"We're all mad here," Roy quoted, probably from a book he (or maybe the alchemist's daughter) read, "You're mad, I'm mad..." He trailed off into silence; I think he has fallen asleep. Or maybe he was asleep this whole time. I could never tell.

Elizabeth must have spotted me by the doorway now; she had been staring. "Good morning, Madame," she greeted sweetly, with a smile on her lips. "You're up early today." Always the keen observer, this girl Elizabeth. One of my first boarders. Almost like a daughter now, for the long time it has already been. Heck, almost all of them are like my children, the way we treat each other.

"Since when did he come back?" I asked, glancing over to the sleeping figure of Roy.

"Just this morning. He was at the door when I came to get the paper," she replied, handing me the day's copy of The Central Times. "Probably took the overnight train here. I think he's still rather tired. He's been telling me of his... goals. Getting bigger by the minute, really. I told him he was becoming a bit loony, but he argued we all are." She chuckled. It was quite clear that she was fond of Roy—they were the closest, almost like real siblings.

"Really now," I said, taking the empty seat beside Roy. "But then again, they say the loony ones are the best people."

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_Author's Notes: I just want to say that I made a lot of assumptions and theories and stuff for this one-shot. XD Er... it would take a lot of space to explain it, but... hmm. Long story short, I thought that maybe Chris Mustang was never married (seeing as she still carried the Mustang family name--and it's canon that she's the sister of Roy's biological father), and perhaps... before having her bar/"palace", maybe she owned an apartment or whatever, where the girls happened to be her boarders, and eventually, started working for her in their information gathering... for Roy. XD_

_Also, if I remember correctly, one of the girls working for Christmas is named "Madeline". Now, seeing as all of them—his subordinates—have codenames based off his "dates", I assumed that these dates are the girls working for Christmas. And these "dates" also happen to carry the same first letter of the first names of each subordinate—save for Riza. I assumed Madeline could have been a codename for Maes. Just an assumption! Since they both start with "M". XD __And I made Elizabeth his closest "sister", and I made her have a fiancé. Referring to the time that Christmas said, "Why don't you go play with Elizabeth-chan?" (Probably Riza, lol.) But if they're as close as siblings, it could be possible too. And Roy replies, "Elizabeth-chan was taken by another man~" Could be her fiancé. (Or Bradley, if you look at it in the Riza-sense. XD) So... yeah. HAHA._

_I have a feeling I'm going to be shot soon after this. XD Nyahaha. (My imagination is sometimes a bit too active for my liking. XD)_


	24. A Little Kindness Goes A Long Way

_Another submission for the FMABBC. I guess you could consider it as an answer to the Royai 100 Themes #052: Hair clip, and #059: Gift. Haha!_

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**A Little Kindness Goes a Long Way  
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The people in Colonel Mustang's office were all very busy that day. They moved swiftly, almost hurriedly, as if they still had so much work to do, but not enough time to do the work. Well, actually, it was true. Today, the officers and enlisted personnel on Colonel Mustang's team were cleaning out their desks and packing up their things. Why, you ask? It's because they're all being reassigned to Central Command Center.

"_So! Sergeant Major Kain Fuery, Warrant Officer Vato Falman, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, and First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye!"_ He called them the other day, announcing the big news. _"You five will all come with me to Central. I will hear no complaints. Come with me!"_

And although Havoc _did_ actually have a complaint (and despite being told not to, he voiced it, nonetheless), the five, along with Colonel Mustang, are now preparing themselves for the move. Now that they will transfer to Central Headquarters, they must empty their desks and vacate the office. This is what they are doing at present, busily taking out the files, folders, and records they have kept, supplies, materials, and all other sorts of possessions they have hidden in their desk drawers.

It was already midday, and Lieutenant Hawkeye was nearly finished with cleaning out her desk (compared to the others who might have to go on overtime just to sort some things out). She had one drawer left to empty, and she did so without hesitation or pause. If she was able to finish packing up early, then perhaps she could help the others in sorting their things so that they could all leave early for the night.

She emptied the contents of the last drawer onto the top of her desk. As she took out the items one by one, a small object, shoved to the back end of the drawer by other office-related things caught her attention. It was a small, rectangular box. Her hand slowly reached up to the back of her head, touching the clip that had always kept her hair in place. It was like an old friend, with whom she has shared years of her life with. A smile crept up Riza's lips as she caught sight of this little gift.

The first time this box arrived on her desk was one particularly hot summer day, a couple of years ago; a year or two past the time she had met the Elric brothers and their friend, Winry Rockbell back in Resembool. The memory (which still seemed fresh) was that of hot weather which caused many people to become quite unproductive.

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The sun was high up in the sky, shining mercilessly upon East City. And although the windows were open to at least catch a small breeze every now and then, what Mustang's team got was not cold air, but blinding sunshine and heat waves. Sweat formed on their foreheads, brought about by both the paperwork they had to work on and the intense summer heat.

The uniforms were not helping either. Whoever designed the military uniform definitely did not consider the weather conditions; long sleeves, seriously?

Intense heat doesn't only bring the uncomfortable, sticky, sweaty feeling, or the drowsy afternoons, or headaches—intense heat could probably cause insanity as well. Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye could've sworn she was going mad; the thought of Colonel Mustang's ambitions of changing the uniform to mini-skirts almost sounded good in this situation—mini-skirts were more… well, breezy. But she immediately dismissed the thought as soon as it arrived. _It's all just the heat._

Second Lieutenants Havoc and Breda have already taken off their upper uniform, leaving only their shirts and the uniform pants. Riza stopped in the middle of writing her report—she rarely does, but this was one opportunity where she was in dire need of a pause—only to take a hold of her hair, once short, but now grown long. She twisted it to the side of her head, away from her neck; it was getting very hot indeed.

Colonel Roy Mustang lifted his eyes from the report he was reading (he was about to fall asleep and needed to look at something else to awaken him). He was feeling very warm as well, and it wasn't a condition he found conducive to work with, despite being a master of an element very well associated with warmth—Flame Alchemy. Well, for doing paperwork, heat was definitely not going to help—unless they'd burn away all the paperwork and he'd be left with nothing to do. His eyes wandered around the office, observing the uneasiness in each of his subordinates, until his gaze fell to his adjutant, who was, surprisingly, also nerved by the heat.

He noted how long her hair had grown now, as he watched her. And seeing how she would always find herself fixing her hair, throwing it to another side just to feel at the least bit cooler, he thought it was already getting quite troublesome for the lieutenant. But he couldn't tell her to just chop it off; he figured she must like her hair like that, and well, he liked it too.

But what solution is there? Is there a way to help the lieutenant so she wouldn't have to worry about her hair, but without having to cut it? And then it hit him. With a smile, the Colonel then continued with his work, eager to get off duty as soon as possible to fulfill his little plan. It was definitely difficult to focus, but he managed to hurdle through it, nonetheless.

…

The next day was just as hot as the others. Despite the unnerving heat, work continued. It was slower than usual, yes, but it continued. Lieutenant Hawkeye left the office with a stack of papers in her arms—the finished documents in their unit. Though if you consider how many they are in that unit, one stack of finished paperwork seems too little an accomplishment; and most of that stack was probably by Hawkeye herself.

Nonetheless, she set out to deliver the finished documents to their respective offices and departments, as well as to pick up more work for them to do. It's not that she wanted to make them suffer with mounds of paperwork; it's just that it was really better if they got to finish early and ahead of the deadline. Sadly, it seems the men believe it is "better late than never", and Riza's the only one who stuck to being the "early bird".

A few minutes after the door closed and Lieutenant Hawkeye was out of sight, Colonel Mustang decided to take a short break. He grinned inwardly as he took out a small box from inside his drawer before heading towards the Lieutenant's desk. _"Giving gifts as bribery won't stop the paperwork from coming, sir." _He could almost hear her say. This made him return to his desk, but only to gather some signed documents before setting them down onto her desk and placing the box on top, as sort of a paper weight.

The Colonel darted back to his seat and resumed his work, wary that the Lieutenant could arrive at any minute.

And she did arrive soon enough. Colonel Mustang watched her out the corner of his eye, but could barely make out her expression as she found his "gift" on top of his finished paperwork. She glanced his way; he looked back down onto the document he was reading. He didn't see her, but he could feel her eyes on him, as if questioning him.

"But it's not my birthday," he heard her say. She was still standing there, in front of her desk, one arm carrying a new set of paperwork.

Before she could say anything else, the Colonel replied, "Merry Christmas, then." His tone was serious, though his words seemed otherwise. He wasn't looking at her.

"It's summer, sir."

Lieutenant Hawkeye walked towards his desk and placed the new stack of paperwork in front of him. "But thank you." She added, before turning on her heel and leaving the room once again with his finished documents and the box in hand. Colonel Mustang watched her leave, dazed. His eyes didn't travel back to his work until the last inch of her was out of the room.

Lieutenant Hawkeye returned to the office later, with her hair clipped to the back of her head and a smile formed on her lips.

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"You seem happy," a voice called her out of her reverie, and Lieutenant Hawkeye was once again in the present, right in the middle of sorting out her things and emptying her desk. Colonel Mustang was standing in front of her desk, two arms carrying a couple of boxes of his belongings. "What kind of forgotten treasure did you find today?"

The two shared a short chuckle. Today was indeed the day of finding their "lost treasures", long forgotten by the stresses of work, buried deep by their busy lives. Lieutenant Hawkeye smiled. She took the small box and deposited it into the carton with all her other belongings that she would be bringing to Central.

"A little kindness," she said, smiling as she glanced up at the Colonel, "really does go a long way, doesn't it?"

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**End**.

_A/N__: Thank you, Mere! :)_

_Lol, regarding the last chapter... yes, I do know that Elizabeth is Riza. Again, I didn't want to use too many OCs, so... I made it so that these girls that work for Christmas would be "coincidentally" named the same. Anyway... whatever. Never mind. HAHAHA. I think the Red Queen had my head chopped off without me knowing, while I was writing that. XD Now I grew a new head. 8D_


	25. Table for Two

**Table For Two**

It is another lazy summer afternoon—or a _busy_ one, seeing as it is another one of those afternoons that we get very few customers. Perhaps they're all at work. I sigh as I put away the damp cloth I had recently used to wipe a couple of tabletops with. It is another afternoon that I get to savour and fully appreciate the atmosphere and ambiance of my workplace.

Red bricks line the walls. Sunlight streams in through the large windows. Outside, on the sides (minus the front) of the café, are tall plants, tall enough to reach the top edge of the window panes, tall enough to block the blinding sunlight during midday. The front of the café is littered with a couple of wooden tables; the inside is the same. As one enters the café, soft music will make its way into one's hearing—right now, a soft piano-violin duet is playing, composed by the manager's acquaintance, who I unfortunately do not know personally.

The small bells atop the front door tingle; a customer! I come out from behind the counter to greet her. It is one of our usual patrons. And as with her past visits to our quaint café, she comes alone. I do not know much about this young miss; she is often quiet in her stay, oftentimes reading. I haven't seen her bring a companion here—perhaps this is a sanctuary? An escape from the stresses of work? Perhaps so. Despite knowing very little to almost nothing about the young miss, I do know she works nearby—in East Headquarters.

Today must be her day off, because she rarely comes at this time of day. She's also out of uniform. I have never taken much attention to the young miss, since I am always so busy attending to other customers, but now that the café is near-empty, I have had the luxury of observing her.

Oh, I must sound like a stalker, a crazy maniac, or something of the sort, huh? No, no, don't get me wrong, I don't fancy her romantically. I just find her very interesting—the woman, from the way she moves, talks, and carries herself... I can say she is far from being a dumb blonde. That would be an insult; she seems smart—beauty, brains, and brawn, I suppose would be the best way to describe her.

But for such a woman, I wonder why she's always alone? She never brings anyone here, not even a friend. Only herself. And because of that, I am intrigued. Hmm, she seems to have a favourite spot too—the single table by the window. A table for two, supposedly.

This afternoon, she sits at her usual table. Although she's probably memorized our menu, she reads it. "Hmm..." She was looking at our selection of homemade teas. She's tried almost all of them, and now couldn't decide which one to order. After a short moment of silence, she comes to a decision. "I'll have the Apple and Cinnamon Honey iced tea, for a change," she smiles. True, until recently, she had been having the traditional warm teas. But since summer rolled along, iced teas were becoming more popular.

"...and an apple pie," she said, closing the menu. I repeat her order, and she chuckles, commenting, "I wonder why I'm suddenly craving apples today." I let out a small chuckle myself, before excusing myself to get her order. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her reach out for one of the many books we'd been keeping in the café for the customers' pleasure. She had been reading that particular novel for a while now; she must be near finishing it.

As she disappeared from my view, the bells jingle again. Another customer has arrived. I hand over the young woman's order to the chef quickly, and turn to greet the new customer. He smiled back at me; he walked toward the counter, where we display some cakes and other baked concoctions. I already know what he'll be ordering though, even if he gazes at the sweets for a time. He turns to his right, as if looking for something—and I suddenly panic. The young woman and this young man, they share a similar "favourite" spot.

His reaction surprised me though, because he was smiling, still. Oh yes, this young man also worked at East Headquarters! Perhaps he recognized his fellow soldier? "I'll have the usual," he says, before walking off to the table at the right end of the café. Coffee and a clubhouse sandwich, I scribble down and pass it off to the chef. Discreetly, I watch their exchange.

"Hello," he says to the woman, who seemed engrossed in her reading. "Is this seat taken?"

The woman looked up, a bit startled. Of course, it was a bit surprising—someone asking to sit with you, when the whole café is practically empty. But upon catching sight of the speaker, her face lit up with recognition. "Colonel," she said in a slightly amused tone. She nodded, and he sat down.

I manage to hear a snippet of conversation between the two:

"Aren't you supposed to be working, sir?"

"Ah, well... I am. Just taking a short break, you know?"

"Short..."

"Yeah, I'll just get my coffee and sandwich, and I'll go right away, ma'am." He joked; I could sense it in his tone.

I left them for a few minutes, allowing them the privacy that is rightfully theirs. I don't usually poke around the customers' lives, but these two have probably been the most... interesting. I know the man as Colonel Mustang—of course, it's only natural to know him. Hero of Ishbal, and most of all, Flame Alchemist. He's well-known around East. He often visits the café on afternoons like this, and sometimes on rainy days. Always ordering the same coffee and sandwich, and always sitting at the table by the window.

Now that I think about it, that window has a perfect view of the East Headquarters. Hmm... is it just pure coincidence? That these two, both officers at East Headquarters, both sharing a common favourite table... hmm. I can't put a finger on it. Their orders are done.

Looking at them, if I didn't know they were officers, I would've mistaken them for something like really good friends. Or a couple, even. They have such chemistry, like-"Apple and Cinnamon Honey Iced Tea, and a slice of apple pie," I set the plate and drink down in front of the young woman, "And coffee and a clubhouse sandwich," I did the same for the Flame Alchemist. "Enjoy your meal." The two smiled.

I couldn't help listening to their exchange afterwards; there was really nothing else to hear in the almost-empty café, save for their voices. He bid his farewell, as he promised. She called his rank. I don't understand what had happened next, because there was silence. But the two didn't leave until both had finished their meal.

* * *

It is yet another lazy summer afternoon, just like that day I saw the Colonel and the Lieutenant at their favourite table. Only this time, the café is entirely empty. It has been a couple of months now, since their visits ceased. I walk over to their table—I have officially claimed it as theirs, but don't tell the manager!—and find their notes perpetually preserved under the table's glass top. As with our other faithful patrons, they wrote messages for the café, and now we keep these testimonials on the tables as a memory of our patrons.

_Thank you so much! I've always enjoyed my afternoon days off here. I will surely miss this... I wonder if you've got a branch in Central?_

– _Riza Hawkeye_

_Thank you! I can't imagine my coffee and clubhouse sandwiches any other way. Do you guys deliver? To Central HQ, please. Haha! _

– _Roy Mustang_

I sighed. In all honesty, I've started to miss the two—we haven't been particularly close, but I've grown fond of them. I look forward to the next time they come—hopefully, they'll come back and instead of just coming and sitting alone, they'd say, "Table for two."

* * *

**End.**

_A/N: I seriously didn't know how to end it. XD I had the sudden urge to write this when I was eating at Cafe Mary Grace the other day. Really nice cafe; it was my first time, but I was already smitten by it. Really nice atmosphere, good food, and everything. I fell in love with it! xD So I modelled the cafe here to Cafe Mary Grace. 8D_

"_Coffee and a clubhouse sandwich" (ordered in the most unexpected times of the day)—sound familiar? You must've heard it from Chiaki-sempai in Nodame Cantabile, haha. I dunno; is it just me, or is there a striking resemblance between Roy and Chiaki? Black hair and eyes, expertise in what they do... Nyahaha, it must be me. Yeah. XD_


	26. The Perfect Crime

**The Perfect Crime  
**

The life of a military dog is always full of action and surprises. There never seems to be a dull day, even when they're all doing paperwork, it seems there's always something fun to do around Headquarters. This particular day seemed to be like any other as it began… well, by that I mean it's the same as the past few days—with the officers all a bit more agitated than usual, all alertness set a notch higher, and all a bit too suspicious about everything.

Colonel Mustang's office has never been in such a state of confusion, puzzlement and disorder before, at least not until this week. Papers were strewn all over the place, and the officers were—for the first time as I can remember—not seated in front of their desks doing their paperwork as they should and usually do. The whole office looked like a battlefield; it was as if a war was taking place right then and there.

News circulating around East Headquarters said that a series of stealing cases have been occurring in different offices and departments, and that Colonel Mustang and his unit have been a part of those robbed. And it seems that from all the reports, there were no witnesses at the time of loss, and there is no evidence left by the thief. A perfect crime, some say, although by formal definition, it is far from perfect. From what I understand, anything could be considered as a perfect crime, as long as there are no witnesses of the committed crime and no evidences that can point out the suspect either.

The mysterious string of thefts began a couple of days ago, particularly in Colonel Mustang's office. Lunch hour had just finished and everyone in the Colonel's unit started filing into the office once again to resume their work.

"_It was around that time that I'd always attempt to get a smoke,"_ Second Lieutenant Havoc said as he told his side of the story to the investigators. _"Well, it's not that I can get away with it; either Colonel Mustang or Lieutenant Hawkeye would end up telling me I'll have to smoke outside, or not smoke at all." _And although that was almost always the case, he always tried, nevertheless.

"_I searched all of my pockets,"_ Havoc recalled, with a look of frustration on his face. His eyebrows were knit together and a frown was on his lips; it was the same expression he wore the other day—the day he was recalling right now. It was as if he was reliving the moment as he retold the story. _"I rummaged through my drawers… but it wasn't there. Nada, zero. No sign of my lighter!"_ His expression dropped, replacing frustration with disappointment and sadness.

* * *

"Damn it, that was from my girlfriend!" Havoc said, mostly to himself, but his loud whispers caused heads to turn to him, all with questioning looks. Havoc sighed hopelessly. He ceased his search and sank into his seat.

"Something wrong, Havoc?" Colonel Mustang asked, pausing in his work.

"Nah, don't mind me, Chief," Second Lieutenant Havoc shrugged as he pulled himself up to sit properly. "I think I misplaced my lighter, that's all." The blond said as he took some documents and positioned himself as if reading. Although his pose said he was ready for work, his face said otherwise: he was still rather disturbed. And knowing the Second Lieutenant, he didn't take lightly any issue that concerned his girlfriend—be it a past, present, or future one.

Colonel Mustang offered a reassuring grin. "That's all right; you can always buy a new one. And besides," he said, "It'll take just a couple more hours till you can get off." Although he meant to reassure Second Lieutenant Havoc, the Colonel was unsuccessful. And maybe, deep inside, Second Lieutenant Havoc was crying, telling the Colonel that it isn't something so easily replaced—that the lighter had too much of a sentimental value to it, or something.

* * *

  
The next day, Sergeant Major Fuery came with a report, saying that one of his tools had gone missing. _"I've searched the entire office,"_ He said; his face was etched with sadness and worry. _"I just couldn't find it. I always make sure I put away all the tools after I use them… but I just don't know why it's missing."_ Sergeant Fuery is quite known for his hobby of tinkering with all sorts of gadgets. If you've got a broken radio or a disconnected telephone, leave it to him—he can make it work.

Despite this serious hobby, Sergeant Fuery doesn't seem to be the type to leave his things lying around, so hearing that he lost something came quite as a surprise. But then again, it's not as much of a surprise as compared to the case of Miss Riza.

Miss Riza—whom everyone calls "Lieutenant Hawkeye"—is known to be strict, well-disciplined, highly efficient, hard working, diligent, responsible, and the list goes on. But even the Lieutenant has fallen victim to the anonymous thief. And for this thief to escape the eyes of the Hawk, he must be really good. A well-seasoned thief or a well-planned theft; either way, it was very well done.

"_As far as I can remember, I left my pen on my desk before I went out for lunch."_ Miss Riza, unlike the other victims, remained calm and composed as she told her story. _"I know for a fact that none of us remained in the office for lunch. We all left the office together and we were all together for the duration of the lunch hour. I don't think any of them could've been the culprit. And besides,"_ she deduced, _"I don't think they'd bother taking my pen; it's not like it'll help them finish their paperwork in miraculously high speed or anything. I don't think they'd even want to hold a pen in the first place."_ She sighed.  


* * *

Colonel Mustang was in deep thought. How could they catch the thief? It seems that the thief only comes out when there are no people around, and the thief seems to take interest in things that are important to certain people—Havoc's lighter, Fuery's tools, Miss Riza's pen. With that much information, how can they capture the thief? How can they lure him out?

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Miss Riza asked before they all headed out for lunch. The other men had their doubts as well. Colonel Mustang was taking a risk in this plan of his, but they couldn't talk him out of it. There was nothing left to do but trust the man and hope for the best.

"Positive, Lieutenant," Colonel Mustang replied coolly as he walked out of the office with the others trailing behind him. "If I were the thief, I won't be able to resist. A thousand cenz, left alone, with no one around… it's not everyday that you find unguarded money. It's very tempting indeed." He grinned, confident in his plan.

_But a thousand cenz really isn't much now, is it…_ This was what I thought the others were thinking at that moment. It seemed so from their expressions. But the Colonel did have a point. Unguarded money; if the thief readily took a lighter, a screwdriver, and a pen, what more if there was money involved, right? Of course it was tempting. But the question now is… if ever the thief _would_ take the money… how can they catch him?

"Oh, we don't catch him just yet," Colonel Mustang explained, "What we're trying to do… is just to prove that there really is a thief." His subordinates shared confused, puzzled, and even shocked looks. What exactly was Colonel Mustang planning? He's just going to give away his money, just like that? This was rather unlike him. But maybe he has a plan. "You see… it's possible that you all just misplaced your things. I'm not saying you're all irresponsible or anything. I'm just saying that there's always the possibility. Before we think of catching the thief, we first have to establish the fact that there really is one."

Okay, that seems logical enough.

* * *

"_I don't understand how it happened. It was supposedly fool-proof!"_ Colonel Mustang exclaimed as he retold his version of the events. He slammed a clenched fist onto the desk. _"I know a thousand cenz is just a measly amount, but… really, is a State Alchemist's pocket watch worth more than that?_" Well, yes? _"It's not like he'll get anything from selling it! I don't know if anyone's even willing to buy a State Alchemist's pocket watch! And the Flame Alchemist's, for that matter."_ They'll be too scared of the possibility that Colonel Mustang will hunt them down and burn them to ashes with the accusation that they were the ones who stole it—is that what he's thinking? Well, that's possible too.

"_It was supposed to be the money that was stolen, not my pocket watch,"_ Colonel Mustang said, livid. _"I left it there simply as… well, to serve as a sort of weight so the money wouldn't be blown away by the breeze!_"

Colonel Mustang's _logical_ "establish the fact that there's a thief first" plan didn't quite work out in the way that he planned it. Or wait, perhaps it did. There really is a thief, and now it just goes to show that the thief isn't interested in money. That or the thief was thinking that indeed, a thousand cenz would be too small an amount compared to the worth of the silver pocket watch.

* * *

Miss Riza had proposed that they all search their office for their missing things. "It's possible that we've all just misplaced them. We'll never know; maybe it was here all along. There's always the possibility," she mused, and I could've sworn she was even smiling. "Right, Colonel?"

Colonel Mustang, whose words have now been used on him, nodded grimly. "Yes," he replied, in an equally gloomy tone. "Right." The Colonel responding in monosyllables meant he wasn't in his best of moods, and everyone in the office knew it. They started their search as quietly as they could, silently rummaging through drawers, scrutinizing desks, double-checking closets, looking underneath and within the office furniture… I guess what was left for them to do was to turn everything upside-down, just to see if any of the missing objects could be found.

Their silent search was halted when the door to the office opened all of a sudden, revealing a golden-haired boy and a suit of armor—Edward and Alphonse Elric. The older one (although shorter), Edward, was carrying a folder with him. "Hey, Colonel," Edward greeted in his usual cool, informal tone. "Here's the report you asked for!" He said and tossed the folder onto the Colonel's pile of paperwork. It wasn't until he did this that he noticed how topsy-turvy the office was.

Well, I can't blame the boy. He's been through a lot of chaotic events at such a young age—actually both the brothers. And from stories, I hear that Edward's almost always in a fight (though he's rarely on the wrong side), so I guess… pandemonium is not an unusual sight for the Elrics.

"Oh…" was the only thing the brothers could say after the officers explained what had happened, not only in their office, but throughout East Headquarters. It was the safest response, of course. What else must you say if you hear that there's been a large scale theft happening right under the State Military's nose?

"No suspects at all? Not even clues? No hunches? No suspicions? Nothing?" Alphonse asked curiously.

"Nothing. Nothing except the fact that what we've lost were—" Havoc stopped midsentence. His faced lightened up; he had a sudden realization. "I've got it! Ha-ha!"

"You've got what we've lost?"

Havoc nodded eagerly—then shook his head with just as much force. "Yes, I've got—no! I don't _have_ the things. What I mean to say is that I think I've got a clue! A clue that can probably point us to whoever stole our things!"

"Let's hear it then," Colonel Mustang replied.

"Here's what I think," Havoc began. All eyes were on him, paying close attention to what his sudden insight was. "All the lost objects were made of silver! Or at least some sort of shiny metal. The forks at the cafeteria, Grumman's eyeglasses, Lieutenant Hawkeye's pen, Colonel Mustang's pocket watch, my lighter! See? It all makes sense! They're all made of metal!"

"So… how will that lead us to the culprit?" Breda asked, perplexed. What Havoc stated was already a fact; they all knew that the objects were made of metal, or at least had a metal element in it. They were shiny, and they were important to those who owned them.

"Hmm… so you're saying the thief likes metal?" Everyone turned to look at Edward, who suddenly spoke. He had a serious expression on and looked as if he was thinking very deeply. Although Edward didn't get himself involved too much in the military's affairs—much more if it were Colonel Mustang's affairs—this was a serious matter, and it seemed he wanted to see how it would turn out as well.

"Fullmetal—" Colonel Mustang said, but before he could even finish his statement, Edward had already reacted.

"I'm not the thief! Just because everyone calls me a name with 'metal' in it doesn't mean I'm the metal-loving freak thief! Geez, what would I do with all those metal things? I can make my own metal, for crying out loud! And why the hell would I have to steal your pocket watch?! I have my own! I don't need a lighter—I don't smoke! And what will I do with forks?! Or Grumman's eyeglasses?! Or—!!" Edward ranted, but was stopped by Alphonse.

"Brother!" He cried, as he stood up to restrain the golden-haired teen. "They weren't even accusing you of anything!" As Alphonse stood, light from the window struck his armor, causing it to shine brightly. "You should really learn to listen more!" He sighed. Edward had calmed down now, and as the brothers were making amends, something suddenly flew in from the window, almost crashing into Alphonse's armor.

It was that creature again, the black bird that was always watching the office from its nest on a tree branch outside. The bird was now hovering around Alphonse, desperately attempting to take away the young alchemist—or at least his head. "Hey, don't—!" These were all failed attempts, obviously, as Alphonse was way too big for the bird, unlike the lighter, the pen, and the pocket watch.

I knew it. I knew that bird had something to do with the disappearances. I knew there was some sort of malice in that bird's eyes as it gazed in through Colonel Mustang's window. I knew it.

And I would've said something, if only dogs could talk.

* * *

That afternoon the officers of Colonel Mustang's unit had all regained the objects they had lost. Work continued once again, and their office has restored its peace.

"Hmm. Magpie," Colonel Mustang mused as he watched some military men climb up the tree to retrieve the rest of the 'stolen' objects from the magpie's nest. "Would it taste better roasted or fried?" The Colonel added darkly. Although he was able to get his pocket watch back in good shape, there was no denying he bore a grudge on the bird for taking his sole proof of state certification.

Unlike the Colonel, Miss Riza had easily gotten over the incident. She was now seated at her desk, doing her paperwork; her silver pen gleamed as it travelled across the white pages of the military documents. "Neither, sir," she said, before adding in a soft mumble, "And either way, I wouldn't want to know."

And so, another day in the life of a military dog comes to a close. In the end, it turned out that the thefts around East Headquarters were not parts of a perfect crime. Although it's partly because the case has already been solved, it's mostly because it wasn't even a crime in the first place. The magpie didn't exactly "plan" to steal the objects; it was simply attracted to the shiny, metallic things of East HQ.

Now, as I walk alongside Miss Riza, I come to think that tomorrow will be another one of those days of watching them do their paperwork, and yet another day of adventures for a military dog. Maybe I'll finally be able to make Second Lieutenant Breda like me, or maybe Colonel Mustang will try to secretly feed me again. I just hope that it's not magpie—roasted or fried, at that.

* * *

おわり。

_A/N: __I don't really know how Hayate would refer to Riza. I'm imagining that he looks at Riza as a person he highly respects—the most respected human, probably—and yet also has a great affection/endearment to. Well, if I were Hayate, that's what I'd feel. Thus, "Miss" to denote the respect, and "Riza" to show the close relationship the two have. :D_

_Anyway, I do hope that I was able to portray Hayate's POV with as much conviction as I've been imagining. XD Haha._

_You know, I'm actually quite surprised Hayate has such a good vocabulary. XD_

_Another one of my FMABBC submissions. (And my favorite!) Special thanks to my beta, Mere. :)_


	27. Roses

**Roses**

Roy Mustang has always been a man who chooses his words well before speaking. I have known him for this trait ever since we were young. He wasn't exactly the quiet type, neither was he talkative. He spoke whenever he needed to, sometimes when we wanted to, but all he says are words that are carefully chosen, and his words are never too less and never too much. In a way, I guess you could say that his words are like roses; they never fail to charm people who receive them. That is why I believe he is quite a good charmer—not just with women, but with people in general.

See, he wouldn't have had his subordinates—us—if we weren't convinced of him, and… well, he probably wouldn't even have gotten his alchemy—basic and Flame—if it weren't for his words. But let's save that story for later.

The reason I'm saying all of this is because I really can't believe that the man in front of me right now is Colonel Mustang. It's because I have to—want to—need to—convince myself that he really is the man I've known so good with words, and I need to convince myself that… well… that he's got to have a whole lot of other tiles to make _real_ words.

And here he is, expecting I'd let this so-called _word_ earn him a double-word score.

"Sir, that really can't be considered as a word," I tell him.

"Why not?" He frowned; he was so convinced it would be acceptable. I'm afraid not. "It's a noun. And nouns are words, right? So that counts, Lieutenant."

"But…" I stare at the _word_ he formed. But you know, the words he'd been forming earlier were impressive, and I was quite surprised where he'd gotten the letters to form them. I thought perhaps he was just lucky today and didn't bother to ask. But now… now I think he's been choosing letters all along. "Sir, it's a name."

"Yeah. Oh come on, Lieutenant," he sighed. He's putting up a fight with this, and I'm willing to challenge him, even if it means I'll have to drag in Falman and Mr. Webster. _"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet. _If I were you, I'd be impressed! Flattered, even."

Is he asking me to be impressed for the word he made or for his dramatic quotation of Juliet Capulet? I assume it's for the word, and the quotation was a digression.

A name, something special you call a person by—though he never calls me 'Riza' (not anymore, at least)—your name, and it's used as a word. A name, now classified among the millions, billions, trillions of other abused, misused, or even unused words in the world. What happened to Roy Mustang and his verbal roses? The man who chooses his words so well?

"It's your turn now, Lieutenant," He then says dismissively. I look down at my own tiles; there's no use arguing with him now. _For the previous turn, I'll have to get back at him somehow… _I scan over the board, and I find a suitable space for my 'revenge'.

USELESS

"Oh, lucky me," I tease, "It's a triple-word score."

_**

* * *

End.**_

_In case you haven't figured it out, Roy and Riza were playing Scrabble. Haha. And Roy, seemingly out of 'big' words for his turn, spelled out "Riza" instead. 8D_

_This is actually supposedly a Romeo x Juliet theme, but I decided to use it for Royai because… well, I think Roy and Riza are star-crossed lovers too~ Except they don't acknowledge any sort of "love"—not yet. XD (I might actually write more RxJ-based Royai fics. XD) Hence the title, "Roses"—the first theme out of 30 basic RxJ themes. XD_


	28. Irises

**Irises**

I don't know why, but I like irises. I like them because seeing irises always give me a sense of calm and peace. Irises have this strange ability to temporarily erase my anxieties, and they always seem to refresh my vision. Irises, especially those pure white ones that are abundant in the East, look so delicate and graceful and soft, and yet unlike other flowers, they last longer. I guess they remind me of _her_ sometimes. Strong, yet still a woman in every sense of the word.

But sometimes, when I look at irises and remember her, I can't help feeling guilty. Guilty of the sins I've done in the past; sins that I know already earned me a seat in hell. Guilty because I know she'll follow me there, by all means. Guilty because I'll end up dragging her down into more misery and pain, and she wouldn't complain, and accept it instead.

It's like planting an iris in the midst of thorns…

I heard from a florist that an iris could mean "inspiration"—quite fitting, because as much as I know we're both doomed in the end, she's one of the reasons I still keep moving forward. Even though ironically, I'd be burning in flames someday… as long as those irises are there, I know I'm still alive, and in a way, closer to heaven.

* * *

**End. **_Soooo. Okaaaay. XD I had a hard time writing this! D: (I might redo it someday... or not. It depends. I'm both satisfied and dissatisfied with this. XD) Again, another Romeo x Juliet theme.  
______The whole heaven-hell thing? Blame the song "Iris" and the line "You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be". XD_


	29. Dependency

**027: Dependency**

It was a Sunday, their only day off, and yet she found herself "working" still. Just when she thought she could get a lazy day for herself after the hectic, action-filled week that passed, someone came knocking at her door—

"Uh… hello, Lieutenant!" a familiar raven-haired man was standing at her doorway, presenting Hawkeye with his biggest, most sincere, please-help-me-I'm-desperate smile. "I just came to ask if you happen to have… er, a sewing kit?"

_What?_ "Oh, hello, Colonel," Hawkeye returned his greeting, albeit quite puzzled. _He came all the way to my apartment just to ask for a sewing kit?_ "I… yes, I do, but—" –_couldn't you have just bought one?_ She cut herself off; the three-letter word of affirmation just brightened up the Flame Alchemist's face. Hawkeye sighed. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home."

"You're a life-saver, Hawkeye," Mustang said as he sat down on the couch. A smile made its way to Hawkeye's lips as she went to retrieve the sought-after item.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir," Hawkeye said when she returned, sewing kit in hand, and took a seat next to Mustang. "What are you going to use it for?"

Mustang pulled out a pair of gloves. "These," he said, "I ran out of gloves with transmutation circles on them. I just realized I had used my last pair on our previous assignment… and you _know_ what happened to the gloves."

"Oh, right," Hawkeye replied with a thoughtful look. "It wasn't even raining, but you were…" she trailed off. She didn't bother to finish; they both knew what she meant.

"If it helps you sleep at night, then so be it," Mustang answered, jokingly. "But I'm sure it gives you nightmares."

"It gives me more work to do, that's for sure. But anyway," she said, dismissing the previous topic, "You plan on sewing the array then?" Mustang nodded. "Do you… usually do that yourself?" It was out of curiosity; she didn't mean to imply he couldn't sew nor do things like that—more like she couldn't imagine it.

"Actually… no, I don't. I used to have to them sewn on by someone, but that person's in Central now, and I just realized too late that this last pair has no array—"

"Why _do_ you have one without an array?"

"—I don't know myself. But anyway, it's the last resort—I can't go to work without my pyrotex gloves. This is a temporary one, until I can get back to Central."

"I see."

"You won't mind if I do it here, right?" Mustang asked, with a tinge of hopefulness evident in his voice. "This will only take a minute! I hope." Nevertheless Hawkeye agreed. Mustang silently began his needlework while Hawkeye went to prepare some tea. Afterwards, she sat down beside him again and watched him in his work. She found it quite amusing; Colonel Mustang had such a serious face on—he was indeed concentrated on his work. However, his fingers didn't seem to want to cooperate with him today.

"May I?" Hawkeye asked, taking one of the gloves. Mustang nodded, but as he was about to say something, Hawkeye said, "It's in my skin; don't worry," reassuring him that she knew what to do.

An hour (contrary to what Mustang promised) and a couple of tea cups later, the two officers had finished their work. As Mustang went on to admire their needlework—he wore the gloves together and posed as if ready to strike—Hawkeye let out a short, stifled laugh. Mustang frowned; why his subordinate was laughing, he couldn't tell, and it seemed she had no plans on telling. "What? What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Was it something I did?" Then Hawkeye took his gloved hands together and held it up to him for comparison.

"Spot the difference." She bit back a laugh.

"Darn it."

Hawkeye then took off the odd glove and picked up the thread and needle again. Mustang could only sigh; Riza was just too useful, too dependable. He took a sip of tea and watched her fingers—slightly calloused from handling the guns she was very well known for—as she swiftly but carefully sewed the familiar array.

"Sorry for the trouble, Hawkeye," he said, as he stood. He's put her through many things—watching his back the heaviest, probably—so there must be something he could do for her as well, no matter how small. Cook dinner? Do the laundry? Prepare her uniform for tomorrow? Shine her boots? Oh, he could just feed Hayate and take him out for a walk; that would be an easy handful. "Anything I could do for you? I've been letting you do so many things for me, so…"

"No, it's all right, sir, you don't have to," Riza smiled, pausing in her needlework. "I'm nearly finished." Roy sighed, slightly defeated. He sat back down on the couch and closed his eyes. A few moments later, and his breathing was even—he had fallen asleep. The events of the past week had exhausted them, and it has already taken its toll on Roy, being one who could find sleep so easily.

Riza turned to her superior and said, "Here you go, it's done," but upon noticing that he was silently sleeping on her couch (with Black Hayate curled up at his feet), she smiled. "You're really hopeless sometimes." She chuckled, as she absent-mindedly brushed away hair from his face. Becoming aware of her actions, Riza shook her head and stood from the couch, carefully guiding Roy's sleeping figure into a lying position to make him comfortable.

* * *

Sunlight was slowly filling the room. Roy Mustang opened an eye—_Huh? Where am I?_—then another—_Oh, wait, this is Hawkeye's place. Whoa, wait, Hawkeye's?! Then that means_—he sat up. "I fell asleep." He mumbled groggily, scratching the back of his head. As he stood to look for the blonde lieutenant, something dropped to the floor. _Hmm? My gloves! They're finished!_ "Riza!" he called suddenly; the name slipping out before he could think.

Riza, startled by the sudden use of her first name, and by the volume of her superior's voice despite just awakening, hurriedly popped her head out of her room. "Yes, sir?" She asked. She was in the middle of dressing for work, already wearing her black turtleneck shirt and uniform pants.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he mumbled. The sight of her in half-uniform suddenly made him panic. _It's almost time for work?! I'm screwed._ "Uh, I think I'm going to be late today, Lieutenant," he said, already walking towards the door to her apartment. "Sorry for the trouble! Thanks for yesterday!"

"Colonel!" Riza called, just before he could make his way out. She was holding out a towel and a paper bag. She smiled lightly.

Upon seeing the contents of the bag, Roy grinned and took the items from the Lieutenant. "I won't ask how you have these," he said, as he trailed behind Hawkeye who held the bathroom door open for him. "I think you're a girl scout or something. No, scratch that. You're my oh-so-dependable Lieutenant-sama."

Roy flashed her a grateful smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

Really, it was amazing how his life depended on her sometimes—or rather, _most_ of the time. She was always there when he needs her, and it seemed she was always ready for any situation that could arise. And it was equally amazing that she depended on him as well. If something were to happen to her, he'd always rush to the scene to her rescue, no matter how much it could jeopardize things. And in a way, she'd be nothing without him, and same goes for him. Strange, and yet somewhat sweet.

And to think they have "nothing" going on.

**

* * *

End.** _A bit too... idk. Fluffy? No, RANDOM for my liking. XD But I couldn't get it out of my mind lately, so... I just had to type it up. Ehhhh.... I dunno what to say about this. I dunno. I think it's weird? XD Anyway, I'm posting this because I feel so giddy and happy about Chapter 107._

_(Oh yeah. Setting of this one-shot... the time when they were still stationed at East HQ. XD) _

_Riza is so dependable. 8D Chapter 107 is proof enough that Roy and Riza are really meant to be together. /hearts_


	30. As One

_Hello guys. Slight spoilers for Chapter 107. But then again, we've all seen that coming, so… haha.  
Alex Armstrong POV. XD Here, have some Armstrong sparkles: ***** (lol)_

_ooooo can you believe it? I'm posting two chapters today! Because I'm so happy about the manga. HAHA. I can't help it. XD_

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**As One**

It is the perfect relationship of superior and subordinate. When the commander is in need, the officer comes to his aide, and in turn, the commander protects his officer. Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye… there could never be a more beautiful example of this.

Loyalty that knows no limits… it unites them into a single being. He, the hands, and she, the eyes. This unity transcends the boundaries of ranks and positions. With this unity, he is no longer Colonel, and she, no longer Lieutenant. Simply Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye—and in their weakest, lowest moments, they fight together. Two strong wills, two brave souls, and yet one being.

Despite their injuries, their pains, their wounds, they march onwards to the battlefield. Together, side by side, they fight fearlessly without regrets—they fight _as one_.

* * *

**End.** _And there you have it folks. Another Romeo x Juliet theme, this time, I used it as a tribute to Chapter 107 and its awesomeness. XDDD (I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN THAT WAY! I KNEW IT! HAHA. I KNEW IT!)_


	31. Please Wait for a Moment

_Hello! This is a little... random crack-ish chapter I came up with because I needed some cheering up. XD I just realized (again) that FMA's ending soon... so... ;___;  
Anyway. Haha. This was inspired by the FMA 4koma turned Brotherhood omake, "Mustang ga Yabai", which is a spoof on Hughes' last phone call to Roy. In the omake, when the operator tells Maes to wait for a moment, a song plays-- it's sung by Roy. Haha. Really funny! You guys should go watch it on YouTube! XD _

_Oh, and these shorts are not arranged in any particular order. I just wrote them as they came to mind._

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"**Please wait for a moment..."**

**Caller Number…?**

_Riiiiing! Riiiiiing!_

"Hello, this is Colonel Mustang," Roy said as he picked up the receiver. His voice was dull and monotonous; he seemed pretty bored. "Hello? Hello?" He sighed. He heard no one. Nothing but the sharp series of beeping noises signalling the end of a call. He hung up.

"That's the thirty-seventh caller for this morning," Hawkeye noted, trying hard to remain calm, but is obviously already losing patience. And just then, the Colonel Mustang's phone started to ring again.

"Hello, this is Colonel Mustang."

. . .

"Thirty-eighth caller."

And it isn't even lunch time yet.

* * *

**Discretion: it exists, sir.**

"_Snap snap, fingers snap~ I am the Flame Alchemist, the man who will become Fuhrer,"_ Hawkeye sang, albeit monotonously. "Sir, while I have no problem with you using this… this… hold-music, or whatever it is called, I just wished you could've… chosen lyrics that are more discreet."

Mustang tried to hold back a smirk. "I can see where you're coming from Lieutenant," Roy said, rather calmly, in contrast to the woman in front of him. "But you don't think people will take that seriously, now, do you? And besides, you didn't sing the next line! _My dream is a harem of mini-skirts~!"_

Hawkeye sighed. Indeed, no one will take this Fuhrer-wannabe seriously. For now, at least.

* * *

**Mustang's a Radio Star!**

"_And this week's chart-topping hit,"_ the radio DJ said, _"is Colonel Mustang's "I am the Flame Alchemist"! This song quickly climbed the chart and has been staying at the top for three weeks now! Here it is—"_

Hawkeye took in a deep breath and promptly plugged her ears. A couple of seconds later, Central Headquarters was filled with Colonel Mustang's voice—_Snap, snap, fingers snap~ I am the Flame Alchemist! The man who will become Fuhrer!_

. . .

Apparently, the officers at Central HQ decided to tune in to Radio Capital at the exact same time.

* * *

**Last Song Syndrome**

Working under Fuhrer King Bradley was tough. He definitely had more work to do than the Colonel, and because of that, Riza was, no doubt, busier. But what was definitely more nerve-wracking than the amount of work Riza had to deal with was the fact that Fuhrer Bradley would suddenly burst into song at random moments, and… he just had to sing _that_ song.

"_I will set your heart on fire, BOOM! My heart is also burning hotly, KABOOM! KABOOM!"_

_Any more of this madness and my ears will go kaboom._

_

* * *

_

**Waiting for her call…**

All of Colonel Mustang's subordinates are on a leave today, apparently. Colonel Mustang isn't doing much work; he's just staring at the phone. It seems he's expecting someone to call him…

_Some other side of town…_

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, don't you think we should call the Colonel now?" Sergeant Major Kain Fuery asked. He was seated on the floor, and some telecommunication devices were assembled in front of him.

Lieutenant Hawkeye had her sniper rifle on ready. Headphones dangled around her neck; she had refused to put them on. "No, we're changing plans Fuery. We're not _calling_ him. Never." _Not until he takes down that silly hold-song._

_Back at HQ…_

"I wonder why Elizabeth hasn't called yet…" Colonel Mustang frowned, as he stared out the window at a certain faraway tower…

* * *

**It was supposed to repel Hughes' calls!**

"Well, the only reason I actually put that up was so that Hughes would be so annoyed, he would stop calling me!"

_Riiiing! Riiiiing!_

"Hello, this is Colonel—"

"Yo, Roy!"

"Maes."

"Nice song you've got there! You know, after calling you for so many times, I've actually memorized it! And you know what? Elysia did too! It's so cute! You wanna he—"

"NO!"

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_

* * *

_

**Lady Gaga?**

_Riiiiing! Riiiiiing!_

"Hello, this is Colonel Mustang," Roy said as he picked up the receiver. His voice was dull and monotonous; he seemed pretty bored. "Hello? Hello?"

_"Hello hello baby, you called, I can't hear a thing~ I have got no service in the club, you see, see,"_

"Hello? Who _is_ this?"

_"Stop calling! Stop calling! I don't wanna talk anymore! I left my head and my heart on the dance floor!"_

Roy threw the receiver back on to its hook. "First, it was YOU who called me! And second, I don't want to talk to you either, whoever you are!"

**

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**The subscriber cannot be reached. Please try again later.**

_That's it for today, folks! My brain's dead. XD_

_Okay, I threw in the Lady Gaga thing because the song wouldn't stop playing in my head while I was making this. XDDD_


	32. Man Cannot Live on Bread Alone

**Man Cannot Live On Bread Alone  
**_062: A reason to quarrel  
_

The buzz of people's chatter. The clinking of coins. The chinking of cash registers. The amplified voice of an unnamed announcer, telling shoppers about some sale items. All these sounds made its way to his ears, and through those, he was sure of where he was—in a grocery store.

"Riza," he said, tapping the woman nearest to him on her shoulder, "what else do we have to buy?"

The blonde pulled out a list, most items already ticked off, then turned to face the man who had asked—the man who was currently holding on to her shoulder. "Some bread, butter… and we're done." She smiled, though knowing full well he couldn't see it.

"Oh, okay," he replied, nodding. And then suddenly, a familiar scent fills the air, and Roy Mustang's hand slowly left Riza's shoulder, and he was walking—slowly, one step at a time—on his own to find the source of the familiar smell.

"Roy? Where are you going?" He heard her say, but he had no time to explain. He needed to find the source of that scent and confirm what it really was before it disappears! He waved one hand—one of his ways of saying, 'don't worry; I can do this myself'. He then held out his arms in front of him, in case he would run into someone (not that anybody would dare bump into a state alchemist/Brigadier General/Promised Day veteran like him—but more than anything, it's just mean to [purposely] bump into a man who couldn't see a thing.)

_Is that what I think it is?_

"Good afternoon, sir," he heard a voice, somewhere to his left. He turned to face that direction. "Would you like to sample our newest brand of peanut butter? It's become quite popular in East Amestris, and now it's being introduced to the Central market. It's also cheaper than most brands, but the quality is probably up to par with the others, if not better!"

_Peanut butter! I knew it._ "A sample, you say?" Roy held out his hand. "Can I?"

"Yes, of course, sir!" The sample promoter happily replied, putting a small cracker spread with the peanut butter on Roy's outstretched hand.

_I can see—_taste_—why it's so popular… it's good!_ "What brand is this? And how much?"

"The biggest jar is only for 700 cenz," the man replied, "and it's by Havoc Sundries—"

"—from underpants to armoured cars, we're the one-stop shop for anything and everything." Roy recited, interrupting, but at the same time, amazing the promoter. "I'll buy one of these," _I can't believe Havoc didn't tell me they were selling peanut butter now!_

"Yes, yes, that's right, sir!" The promoter said, awestruck by Roy's recitation of the motto. "And here you go. Thank you, sir!" He said, as he carefully handed Roy the jar of peanut butter.

Pleased, Roy made his way back to where he had left Riza—_she's in the aisle behind this shelf._ He thought to himself, as he touched the edge of one of the shelves filled with various food products. And he was right; as he turned a corner, entering the next aisle, he was greeted by none other than Riza herself.

"Where did you go? And what's that?" she asked, trying to bite back a smile. Sure, he couldn't see it, but he probably could sense it, one way or another. But right now, she didn't want him to know she was slightly amused with his actions. Whenever Roy went out on his own, it meant there was something he didn't want Riza to see—not right away, at least—because there's always the possibility of her disagreeing with him on it.

They were both stubborn, so there was always a reason to quarrel.

While their arguments could get intense at times, it was never filled with hatred, and it was never something that ultimately damaged their relationship. And because it happened so often, it amused her. It amused her, because the reasons were almost always the same: if there was something Roy refused to learn, that was to stop smuggling things that were not needed.

Besides, Riza would always be able to see it in the shopping cart anyway, no matter what he does.

"That's not on the list we made," Riza stated calmly.

"I know that. But look, it's extremely cheap! It's cheaper than those other peanut butter brands out there! It's only 700 cenz. And it's the biggest jar! See? And it's even made by Havoc Sundries!" There he goes again, trying to convince her to let him get something they don't really _need_ badly… like a child asking his mother to buy him candy. Or a toy. Or ice cream.

"Your presidency is cheaper than this jar of peanut butter," she replied. True. Mustang for President: only 520 cenz. Although yes, it _is_ quite impressive that it's made by Havoc Sundries. "And didn't you just say that you didn't want things to be any different? That even though you're practically in the upper brass now, you still wanted to do the same things you did before—like buy groceries on a budget?"

"…well, yes. But can't the General have the least bit of luxury of having peanut butter on his toast?"

"How about normal butter?"

"I just realized that normal butter is salty."

"Then let's just buy the unsalted ones."

"Why buy butter if it isn't salty?"

"Then just eat the bread on its own!

"Come on, Riza! Man cannot live on bread alone!"

"It's not like we're feeding you an all-bread diet... and besides, peanut butter isn't the only thing you can have bread with. We can make toast, and serve bacon and eggs on the side. Or you can dip it in coffee—that's a new flavour for you."

"Why are we cost-cutting again? Fuhrer Grumman has been very kind in giving us a raise in line with the promotion, so I suppose we could afford a few luxuries?"

"Maybe _you _could afford it. But you do realize that while I have made it a point to be by your side all the time, I still technically live in my apartment, and I still have other expenses and liabilities for that space…"

"That's why I told you to move out of there and—"

Riza cut into his statement abruptly. "That's not an option, sir. Not while you haven't made it to the top yet." She stated, in the clipped tone that she has perfected years ago. And with that, she puts him back on the right path—which he temporarily strayed from at the moment, all for the love of peanut butter.

Roy sighed. "Do we really have to bring all of these things up over a jar of peanut butter?"

"You started it," she replied, in a tone that was surprisingly like a child's way of accusation. "I know how much you love peanut butter on your toast, but it was you who insisted that we follow the grocery list—and since you were the one dictating all the items, and since you never mentioned peanut butter, I assumed you didn't want it this time around."

"Well…" Riza has once again won this (long) round. She never seems to run out of rebuttals, even in the old days, when they were still Colonel and Lieutenant—or even earlier than that. She was always the quick thinker, always full of wit and wisdom. Roy racked his brain for something to back with. He couldn't come up with anything. "…okay, fine. You win. I'll put it back." He replied, defeat slightly evident in his tone.

He went on his own again, walking cautiously, holding the jar firmly with one hand in case he bumps into someone and drops it. He followed the lingering scent of peanut butter, until he finally made it back to the small stall of the peanut butter sampler. Although he said he was going to put back what he took, he wasn't exactly going to give up just yet.

"Hello," he said, with a smirk making its way to his lips, "Havoc Sundries sells jam now too, don't they?"

* * *

"You know, Havoc has a lot of explaining to do," Roy said, when he was finally beside Riza again. "He didn't tell us that they're selling peanut butter _and_ strawberry jam now." He smiled, waving one of the jars he brought, a jar of strawberry jam, in the air, to the space that he thinks is part of Riza's line of sight.

Riza was silent. "Riza? Oh, are you giving me that look now? Okay, okay, I get it. It's not on the list either." After a short moment of silence, he heard a defeated sigh coming from his right. Then the weight of the two jars was lifted from his hands and he heard the gentle _clunk_ of glass being put into the grocery cart.

"Tell Havoc to send us these things for free next time," she said, taking his hand as she pushed the cart to the counter. "Lest it becomes another reason for us to quarrel." She smiled. Maybe she shouldn't underestimate his cunningness; he was blind, but he still had his ways.

* * *

**End**.

_LOL, Royai fighting over something as petty as peanut butter. XD I'm sorry. The peanut butter thing was just weird. I dunno how I even came up with that. __All I knew is that I just wanted to try writing a Royai fic that involved grocery shopping (because I thought it was cute), and suddenly I saw this prompt, and then my mind just went on overdrive. I've been itching to write something for the past few days/weeks/I dunno, but I couldn't come up with anything. I guess my mind was just too preoccupied with worrying about FMA's Finale... XD_

_Anyway, to make up for this epically weird (I dunno, the fact that their reason to quarrel is peanut butter… I find it so weird. XD) update, I'll give you a heads up on my next update._

_Next chapter will be my tribute for Royai day! Oh, and I promise it won't be as weird as this one. XD  
__Preview: "And it was like I could still hear the fireworks, even long after they've finished."_

_Thanks for reading! :)_

_Oh, and thanks to all those who continuously review! And also to those who put me on their fave and alert lists. Thank you!_


	33. Summer Fireworks

**OMG I AM SO SORRY. **_I just realized that I wasn't able to post this chapter on Royai Day. AT ALL. Like wth, right? I dunno how it happened, but I'm pretty sure I posted it. :O Oh well. I must've been really tired and sleepy after my college orientation seminar, plus really out of my mind after reading FMA's finale. :( But anyway... here's my Royai Day tribute. It's four days late. I'm sorry. ;_; (Maaaan, and I prepared for this one so much! :( )_

_**EDIT** (06.17.2010) : Crap. Formatting sucks. Damn, there's a lot of POV-shifting here, and now that my format was removed (idk how or why), it seems like a really weird narration. Fixed it. D:_

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**Summer Fireworks**

"Today is June…" Colonel Mustang trailed off. The day seems to have slipped his mind again; it happens a lot, especially when you've got a lot on your mind. The Colonel has been very busy lately. Reports keep coming in endlessly, and now the whole office doesn't even have time for a proper break. If the inflow of documents stays like this, we might have to work through lunch and stay overtime. Even I have a lot of work to do.

"It's June 11th, sir," That reminds me of something. Colonel Mustang looked up; we seem to have the same thoughts in mind. "June 11th." I mumbled, mostly to myself. I let out a small smile, all the while grateful that it was only the Colonel who was looking.

"Oh, right. Thanks, Lieutenant." He smiled in reply before turning back to his paperwork.

* * *

Summer, 1900

It was another hot summer day, as usual. After breakfast, I sat down on the front porch to read. There was really nothing better to do; it was too hot to play in the fields, and it was stuffy inside the house. And Mr. Mustang, who never seemed to run out of ideas in spending (or wasting) time, was busy studying alchemy with my father. So I was alone, with nothing to do, in the midst of the summer heat. I settled on staying on the porch. At least there was a little bit of a breeze there. Also, I could see the town square from that spot, so it was nice.

Most of my time was spent in a peaceful silence. Around a third of the book I was reading, I heard the door behind me creak.

"Mind if I sit here?" Mr. Mustang asked, already taking his seat.

I turned to look at him. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am," he grinned, holding up a book of his own. It was an alchemy text; a reading assignment, most likely. He sighed as he flipped through the pages to find his lesson for the day. Whenever he's out of the study to read on his own, it only means one thing: Father decided it's time to continue his research again. That would go on for a few days, and once he's satisfied with his current progress, he'll call for Mr. Mustang again.

We sat together, reading in silence, for some time.

"Hey Riza," he spoke suddenly. "What day is it today?"

"Tuesday," I replied simply. He shook his head. "Oh, you mean the date? June 11th. Why?"

"Nothing really… it's just that…" He trailed off, gazing out to the town square. "There are a lot of people in town."

"Oh, that's because it's the summer festival."

"Summer festival?" I nodded. "So what happens in the summer festival?"

"I don't really know…" I replied. Well, I really didn't know. "Fireworks." I said as an afterthought. I remember that in the past years, I'd hear the fireworks on the night of the festival. That was all I knew; I never went to town to see what really goes on. Father and I always stayed in this house, no matter what happened outside.

xxx

That afternoon, Master Hawkeye called for me. I didn't expect he'd call me back so soon, but he did. I entered the study as quietly as I could. If there was anything Master Hawkeye didn't like, it was noise. Oh, and the military. But the military's noisy, with all their guns and barked commands and stuff, so I guess it follows that he dislikes them too.

"Why don't you go to town tonight?" He said after I had closed the door. I must have had a look of disbelief or something, because he said, "It's the summer festival. At least you kids should go. Take Riza with you," He was serious.

"Is it all right, Master?"

"Be back by dinner," he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. As I turned to leave, he added, somewhat darkly, "Take care of Riza. If anything happens to her, _you_ will be responsible."

"Y-yes, Master Hawkeye. Thank you," I nodded, before leaving the room just as quietly as I entered. Once I was halfway down the stairs, I sprinted down to the kitchen, where I knew Riza was cleaning out the cups from this afternoon's tea.

"Riza!" I called, enthusiastically. I probably looked like a little boy with a large goofy grin on my face, but it didn't matter. It was only me and Riza anyway. "Come on, let's go!" And yes, I really was excited. I haven't been to a festival in ages. And I think festivals here are… well, more "festive" than those in Central.

"Go where?" she asked, drying her hands on a towel.

"To the town square! For the summer festival!"

"What are you talking about? We can't leave. Father—"

"Master Hawkeye gave us his blessing," I replied happily, grabbing her hand. She was startled. "He just said we'd have to get back by dinner. Now let's go! There's no time to lose, Riza!"

She bit back a laugh as we both slipped into our shoes and stepped out of the house.

Freedom!

xxx

The town was beautiful. There were lights and banners and everything. Everything was decorated. There were booths, food stalls, games. There was even a stage set in the middle of the square. A lot of people were out—families, couples, friends. The crowd was thick, and it was hard to get through. It was no doubt hotter because it was so crowded, but for some reason, I was still so happy.

Of course, that was natural. It's my first time to actually attend a festival like this. I'd always been watching from a distance. The thrill and excitement of actually being there was overwhelming.

As we were making our way through the sea of people, I felt a hand clasped around mine—I looked up, and a smile greeted me. "I'll die if I lose you." He said. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, but I suppose I could just blame it on the temperature. I hoped that he wouldn't see it, with all the multi-colored lights.

We went around, playing the different games that the booths offered. (I won at the shooting booth, much to his surprise.) We ate, watched the shows, and mostly just strolled around the town. It was really enjoyable… I honestly couldn't remember the last time I've laughed that much, nor the last time I've ever felt as happy as I was then.

We watched the sunset in the field, before heading back to the house. After all, it was almost time for dinner.

xxx

It was nearly nightfall. We decided to head back to their house, lest we (mostly I) get scolded by Master Hawkeye. It was a fun afternoon. I've never seen her so happy. She has always been so serious and straight-faced at home. A smile from her would already make my day. But that afternoon, hearing her laughter and seeing her happy face really… well, how should I put it? I don't know how to describe it. It was very… very… uh… attractive? Cute? Heart-warming?

Well, it made me really happy, that's for sure.

We had dinner (Master Hawkeye didn't come down again, so I left it in the study, even though both Riza and I know that he'd probably be too absorbed in his study to touch his food.) My eyes kept wandering over to the clock. There was something I wanted Riza to see.

Eight o' clock. At eight o' clock, it starts.

xxx

Mr. Mustang looked pretty anxious throughout dinner. He kept glancing at the clock. Even while we washed and put away the dishes, he still turned to look at the clock. He seemed to be expecting something, but I had not even the slightest idea of what it was. When the clock struck eight, he took me by the hand again, and led me to the front porch. He didn't say anything, despite my questions.

We sat down at the porch. And that was when I heard—no, _saw_—my answer.

Sparks flew to the sky, exploding in an array of colors. Fireworks! It was, like the rest of the festival, beautiful. I've heard them before, and sometimes I'd go to watch them from a window, but the fireworks I've seen before were never as beautiful as they were that night. I don't know why. It seemed the same, and yet… they were entirely different.

The fireworks lasted for a couple of minutes. Both Mr. Mustang and I were silenced by its beauty. The show ended, and the sky was pitch black as it first was, but the smiles on our faces remained.

"That was amazing," I managed to say, breaking the silence.

"It was, wasn't it?" He smiled. I nodded.

Silence fell between us again. He was looking at me; I could feel the weight of his stare. Normally, I would've felt weird and awkward by the sudden… uh, attention, but for some reason, right now, with Mr. Mustang, I didn't. I felt rather normal. I was at ease.

"Has anyone told you that you're growing up to be a pretty girl?" He said all of a sudden. I was surprised. He has never told me anything about my looks before. Well, nothing as striking as this, for sure. Well, no one has ever noted that either, so that explains my surprise.

I shook my head. "No one's ever told me that," I flushed. "But thank you… I guess."

He was still looking at me. "I'm just telling the truth," he smiled. "But you're welcome… I guess." He replied, mimicking my earlier statement. He laughed inwardly.

"Has anyone told you that you're growing up to sound like a father?" He stopped laughing; it was my turn. But seriously, his words _were_ quite fatherly. At least in my mind it was. (I don't really know. I've never had a father to tell me anything like that.)

"You're not serious." He frowned. _Of course I wasn't._ "I don't plan on being a father any time soon." _Of course not, Mr. Mustang. We're only children! Well, I am. You're a teenager. But still… you're only fifteen._ –And then we laughed.

xxx

We laughed. And suddenly, out of nowhere, memories from the beginning of my apprenticeship—how she wouldn't let me in because Master Hawkeye never used to take in apprentices—and all the times I've been studying (and not studying when I should be), helping her run errands or do chores… all the pranks I've played on her, and all the times she exacted revenge. And today. The festival, the fireworks, and her laughter. And then I am reminded that soon, my apprenticeship will come to an end, and I will no longer need to stay with the Hawkeyes.

I'm going to miss these days… not worrying about anything. The simple days. I'm going to miss the simple girl I spend it with too. The simple girl with her short blonde hair and her simple dress and her simple smile… and all the things she does that seems simple, but really complex. I'm not making sense, I know; I've temporarily given up on being rational.

And my hand took that as a sign. With a mind of its own, my hand tucked away locks of hair from her face. She was surprised by the action and the sudden contact (I was too), but she didn't move away. And the next thing that happened, I knew very well was going to be the death of Roy Mustang.

I kissed her.

xxx

Roy Mustang is a strange boy. I'm saying this because it's true. At first he seems normal, and then he does something so out of the ordinary. That night was a perfect example. The evening breeze was cool, and it was blowing around us, playing with our hair. And all of a sudden, he reached out to me, and brushed away the hair from my face. Then he… well, he leaned closer, and he… our lips met. He's been giving me too many surprises for one day.

A part of me wanted to move away. I don't know why; maybe it's because… no, I don't really know. This is the first time this has happened to me, and I've never heard of anything like this from anyone. Not even in books (not that I read romance anyway).

There was another part of me that didn't want to move away. And I guess it was a stronger part of me, because at that moment, I stayed. I didn't move. I didn't bat an eyelash. I just sat there. I didn't even breathe.

All I knew was that my heart was racing, beating faster and louder than it ever has, and it was like I could still hear the fireworks, even long after they've finished.

* * *

"Hey Chief," Havoc said as we all left the office for lunch. "Do you know any good places to watch fireworks from? I hear there's going to be a fireworks display tonight in some nearby town, and it's going to be visible here in East City. I wanted to take my girlfriend some place to see it… but I just don't know any good spot. Any ideas, sir?"

I couldn't control a smirk. Hawkeye's ears perked up at the question. "Hmm… oh, I don't know," I've never really made much of an effort to watch fireworks since that day. Watching the fireworks alone would take out all the awe and excitement in it. "The front porch." I said, with as much conviction as I could muster. I smiled proudly at my suggestion. (Of course it would be the best place! At least it was for me.) Havoc threw me a confused look.

"Indeed, it is," Hawkeye muttered softly. She was biting back a smile.

Havoc must've heard, because his next reaction was, "You guys are playing with me, aren't you?" Apparently, _his_ front porch has a _wonderful_ view of a nearby building.

* * *

**Happy Royai Day! (belated? XD)**

_Sooo. Haha. Now that I look back at it, I think... it's weird? A little bit? Dang, I think all my works are weird. But anyway, you could always prove me wrong. 8D_

_Okay. Okaaaay. I'm late. What an epic fail. XD I wrote this like... a month ago. And I'm late. HAHA. - I still can't get over it. Haha. Anywaaaaay. It's never too late to share the Royai love, eh? :)_

_Thank you to all those who continuously read and review, and to all those who added me to their lists. Thank youuuu! :D_


	34. House

**Prompt: "It was an ugly house."**

* * *

It was an ugly house. When I first saw it, I actually thought it was abandoned. The garden and the backyard was unkempt, grass growing tall, weeds beside the flowers. Dried leaves were carried along the breeze, and the dead branches snapped after every footfall. Inside was much worse. Cracks lined the walls and ceilings. The paint and wallpapers were peeling. The wooden floorboards creaked, and the doors wailed when you opened them. The fireplace was covered in soot. The furniture collected dust. The roof leaked whenever it rained.

It was a gloomy house. Dark, sad, cold, lonely. They had no neighbours. Their house was situated on the farthest, most isolated part of the town. For years, they have kept to themselves. Master Hawkeye was a ghost. Riza Hawkeye, a mystery. The young Riza would only leave the house to buy necessities, to run errands. And afterwards, she wouldn't go out for weeks. No one knew them, no one saw them. It was a peaceful life.

Even after I came to live with them, things have remained the same. The house was still crumbling, _dying_, and gloomy. Even after I came, left, and returned, things remained the same. The same overgrown yard, the same cracked walls, the same leaking roof. But now that I think about it, something did change. The house was even more silent. The house was emptier, lonelier... because now there was only one Hawkeye left.

It was an ugly house. I couldn't bear to leave it that way. I couldn't bear to leave her to live there. It was an ugly house, and a girl like her deserved better. And from that day on, I promised myself that someday, I'd let her live a happier life. I'd give her a home.

* * *

**End**. _Just a little exercise in the "show, don't tell" principle in writing. Sometimes I feel I really just "tell" what's happening, so... I thought I'd give this exercise a try. Idk if I was successful with it though. XD __There's a bit of… irony in it. Particularly the "peaceful life" part. XD_

_Roy's POV. I felt it would be best to write it that way._

_Actually I wasn't planning to post this when I first wrote it... but after being inspired to write the next chapter, I decided I'd throw this one in too. Haha. The reason why I didn't want to post it initially was that I thought it was a bit depressing... not exactly the happy-Royai I'd like. XD Because of that, I'm going to post the next chapter right away. (You guys are so lucky, seriously.) Next chapter is a response to this one. :)_


	35. Home

_FMA has come to an end. But the fandom will still go on! :)  
__THIS IS SET POST-MANGA. SO EXPECT SOME SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 108._

_

* * *

_

**099: "Welcome home"**

It has been a long journey, and it wasn't an easy road. There has been so many ups and downs, so many things we've lost, sacrificed, and had to let go of, but ultimately, there were just as many things we've gained, realized, and managed to reach. The journey has ended, but all that we've learned from it will definitely remain. Now that the journey has ended, now that the battle has been won, after all that has been, it is finally time to march back home.

But then I realize that my journey isn't over yet. While the battle was fought and won, while things are getting back into order, I realize that I still have something to do. I still haven't fulfilled my purpose to its fullest, and now is the perfect chance. We are all going to be busy again, and as I promised, I will follow him.

Walking through the all-too-familiar halls of headquarters, I feel at ease. Heading towards that particular office, I feel comforted. Although I was still doing my duties, I felt _at home_.

The five of us, reunited after a long, forced separation, stand here, in front of him, just as we used to do. With our hands raised to a salute to greet our long-missed commander, he returns the gesture and smiles. Although it seems like a normal exchange of formalities between superior and subordinates, in reality, this was our way of saying we've returned to his side, and this was his way of saying, "Welcome home."

This may not seem to be the home many would dream of, but for us, for me, this is _home_. The journey may be difficult and tiring, but it's always nice to know that we have a home to come back to, a place where we can be ourselves regardless of our position or rank, a place where we belong, and ultimately, a place where our hearts can be at ease.

Home is where the heart is, they say. I may not live in the grandest structure, or have the most beautiful house, but here, in this room, behind the wooden doors, within the four walls, in the midst of the desks and the paperwork, in the laughter, in the orders, in the complaints, in the promises... here, where the six of us are gathered again, I've found a home.

* * *

**End**. _Yay~ Finished. Riza-POV, in response to the last chapter (of the manga, and the last chapter I posted, lol.)_


	36. Fortune Cookies

_It's been forever, I know. Writer's block. College. Yeah. XD I'm not discontinuing this or anything! I'll still be writing, but it'll be slower. :(  
-OMG I JUST NOTICED. August 2 (which is today), was the same day I first started this one-shot collection! Yay~ it's my anniversary for this now. *confetti* XD_

_Set post-manga/Brotherhood. Spoilers if you squint… xD_

_Special thanks to __**overtlycovert**__, for helping me edit this. :) –and I suggest that you guys go check out her fics! Really nice. :) [GLEE! *hearts*]_

_Now, on to the story! :D_

_

* * *

_

**Fortune Cookies**

"_Disbelief destroys the magic."_

I don't know if I'm simply being mocked, or if I should really start believing in these things. Fortune cookies, seriously? They're just random messages inside oddly-shaped (but surprisingly tasty) cookies. Who believes in these things anyway? It's not like the whole universe conspired to send that message to you, right?

"Ha! Look at this, chief! _'Now is the time to go and pursue your love interest!'_" Havoc exclaimed, reading out his fortune happily. "This is great! Now I've finally made up my mind—today, I'll definitely ask Melissa to be my girlfriend!" Oh, so that's what's been bothering him lately.

"Good luck with that, Havoc." Hawkeye chuckled as she cracked open her own fortune cookie. She read it silently; a smile crept up to her lips. "Hmm. True. Makes sense," she mumbled as she nodded, mostly to herself. She must've seen the curiosity in our expressions because she laid down the strip of paper onto the table for me and Havoc to see.

"_In order to take, one must first give."_ How original.

What kind of fortune is that? It's just the Law of Equivalent Exchange! I don't see anything prophetic about it. It doesn't even sound like advice or anything. It's just… the Law of Equivalent Exchange. They must've run out of fortunes, I suppose. Now see, that's one more reason why I don't believe in all this fortune-telling rubbish.

"Mushbe fo alchemish o shumtin," Havoc commented as he munched on a pork bun. "Must be for alchemists or something," he repeated after swallowing the piece of bread, this time a lot clearer. "Or, it could be reminding you that-that you can't get something out of nothing!" Havoc said as he took another bite into his _char siu bao_. (That's Xingese for pork bun.) Hawkeye merely smiled at the Second Lieutenant's attempts to interpret her fortune. "Oh! Maybe, itch youshing Hawkeye ash an inshtument to tell the General—" He swallowed again. "—that he should never forget Equivalent Exchange!"

"I've learned that much by now, thank you," I said to no one in particular. "You're really taking these things seriously, eh, Havoc?" I joked.

"Not _that_ seriously. But there's no harm in believing in it either, right? Besides, _disbelief destroys the magic_." Havoc grinned.

But how can you believe in something that you can't even prove? With no concrete evidence? No scientific explanation? Even the homunculi, who we initially refused to believe existed, had an alchemic reasoning behind them. What about these fortunes, then?—I was about to ask, but I chose to keep silent as the door from the back of the small bakery opened, and in came a short, old Xingese man—the owner of the bakery, if I'm not mistaken.

"Hello," he called to us, the only customers at this hour, as he made his way towards our table. The bakery wasn't that spacious and could only fit two small tables inside, what with the large displays of almost every kind of Xingese pastry and confection you could imagine. "Enjoying your food?" he asked in his distinct accent.

"Yes, yes!" Havoc nodded eagerly, holding out his second pork bun as proof. The old man smiled behind his long gray beard. He was holding a deck of cards. Noticing this, Havoc asked, most likely out of curiosity and plain impulse more than anything else, "Playing cards?"

The old man shook his head lightly. The smile was still on his face. "No. These reading cards." He carefully sat down on one of the chairs at the next table. He then turned to Hawkeye. "I think there are things you want to know? Want to have your fortune told? I can read the cards for you, if you like," he offered kindly. I knew Hawkeye wasn't the type to believe in those things, so of course, I knew she was going to decline. Kindly, of course.

"Well," she hesitated, "All right." Well, I was wrong, then.

She finished off the last piece of her moon cake before moving to the next table to sit with the old Xingese man. Hawkeye didn't seem all that enthusiastic about it, but she appeared to be interested anyway. I guess it was more of curiosity that got her.

The old man asked her several questions first, like if there was someone she had feelings for (I both wanted to and did not want to know the answer), and I assume she must've nodded (I wasn't looking; instead I just focused on eating one of the moon cakes that were left). He then asked her to 'knock' on the deck of cards as many times as the letters of the name of that person. (I didn't hear the knocking though.) Then he asked her to divide the deck in half and to think of that person while he shuffled the cards. And then there was a long sequence of grouping the cards then choosing a set to open and then grouping and choosing and grouping and choosing—oh, and eliminating some cards in between—until there were only a few cards left. Then the old man proceeded to arrange them. Havoc was watching—and smiling—the whole time.

"Hmm… he likes you," he said happily. "Yes, he likes you a lot. Oh, and you like him too—the feeling is mutual." There was silence. "See, this Queen of Hearts is you. And the King of Spades is him. This is his heart—" I assume he was pointing to the Ace of Spades, "—and this is yours—" then to the Ace of Hearts, "King, Queen, and Hearts all have good positions here, but look at these other cards—they are the hindrances...You two both stubborn. You get along, but you two stubborn. And then… this other card, King also, is a hindrance. You like another person?" Hawkeye paused, perhaps to think, then shook her head. "Ah, then this one is authority. Or something with great power over you two. Maybe… a law or rule?" He took a quick glance at my direction. "Anyway, that the biggest obstacle." And then there was silence again. "Oh, but don't worry; he loves you anyway. You know what they say: love conquers all. Anyway, obstacles there to be overcome."

"Ah! I want to have my fortune read too!" Havoc said as Hawkeye muttered a word of thanks. Hawkeye vacated her seat and returned to our table, as Havoc sat in front of the old man.

"Quite intriguing, wasn't it?" she said. 'Yeah, it really is,' I wanted to say. And then, 'Who is the King of Spades?' I wanted to ask. I honestly feel quite jealous of this King of Spades. Who could he be? "Do you want yours read too, sir?" Hawkeye asked, smiling.

I no longer had the chance to reply as Havoc's voice echoed throughout the small bakery. "What? No way! Not again!" he cried as the old man interpreted his cards. It seemed that he was going to have the same fate with Melissa too—someone's going to hinder the girl from fully loving Havoc the way he does. Poor guy. That's one of the reasons why I don't want to have my fortune read—in case it turns out worse, if it were even possible.

We left the bakery with Havoc complaining about how contradicting his fortunes were. The cookie encouraged him to pursue the girl, but the cards tell him it won't work out. Hawkeye tried to comfort him, but it was no use. Again, another reason I don't believe in these fortune things—they never seem to be consistent.

_Disbelief destroys the magic._ It's mocking me. It's telling me off. Ah, screw it.

"You go on ahead," I said to Hawkeye and Havoc, "I think I forgot something." Hawkeye looked at me with concerned, questioning eyes, but followed my words at once. I watched the two as they walked away. It was only when they had rounded the corner and disappeared from my sight that I decided to go back into the bakery again.

"You forgot something?" The old man, still seated at the table where we left him, asked. "Sit down, sit down," he then prompted, almost as if he knew what it was that I've 'forgotten'. I followed, although a bit hesitantly. And then he asked the same things he asked Hawkeye.

"Ohh," he mused, his smile wide. "You two… have same cards. Ah, so it's very much a mutual feeling then. As what I said, there are obstacles. But only to be overcome. Not going to hinder you for too long. Many people, I think, want to see you happy, and together. But now is not the time yet. Too early. You still a Brigadier General. Still a lot for you—and her—to do. This is one obstacle, but we both know it is easily overcome." We sat in silence for a few moments until the old man gathered up his cards and stood up, staggering a bit.

I muttered a 'thank you', and he nodded in acknowledgement, slowly making his way to the front door to see me off. As I put on my military coat and bid him goodbye, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "You've known each other for so long, yes? You have her heart—it'll take another man years to be able to take that away from you. So don't worry; don't feel bad if it's not now. _Every flower blooms at its own sweet time_." He patted my back and smiled encouragingly. His words lost the strange Xingese phrasing and his tone seemed to have lost its distinct twang. He was talking to me, and I understood it fully.

How he was able to say I had her heart or how he even knew how long we've known each other is beyond me, but I think… I think I'm having a slight change of mind about all this.

xxx

Days later, a package arrived in the office. The box was marked with several Xingese characters and letters. I understood nothing save for the words "Handle with care!" scrawled on the top (Fullmetal's hand writing, no doubt), and a tag saying it was from Edward and Alphonse Elric. They had probably gone to Xing to visit the young Emperor from the Yao clan.

The box contained a couple sets of china (plates and cups and other porcelain tableware—there was even a tea set for the office, aptly labelled: "for General Mustang's team"), and lots of Xingese delicacies—including a box of fortune cookies.

Hawkeye and I cracked our cookies open, paused to read our fortunes, then—"It's a shame you don't believe in these fortunes, sir," she joked.

I glanced down at her fortune, and then to mine; they bore the same message. "If I were you, I'd eat the cookie, Hawkeye. Or else the fortune won't come true." I smiled, eating my own cookie. These things are starting to make more sense now, that I think I'm going to start believing in these fortunes, even just a bit. There's no harm in believing in it, anyway. And besides, we will still be the ones to write our own, true, fortunes in the end.

"_Stop searching forever; happiness is just next to you!"_

_

* * *

_

**Fin.** _As always, I'm saying this is weird. A little OOC. I'm getting rusty. XD Care to prove me wrong? HAHA._

_Anyway. Here's the real reason why Roy changed his mind about fortune cookies/fortune telling:  
__(NOTE: this is an omake. Don't believe it. –but… 'Don't stop! Believing! Hold on to that fee~ling!' er… because "disbelief destroys the magic". HAHA. *is shot*)_

_Ever since the card reading, Roy has frequented the Xingese bakery. He'd usually just go to get a moon cake or two, sometimes a pork bun, but only for the sake of the fortune cookie that would come (for free) with it. One day, he opened his fortune cookie and the message read: "You are next in line for promotion in your firm." Well, he doesn't work in a firm—technically it's an institution, an organization, even public office—but being next in line for promotion? That's another thing. And just as he finished eating the cookie, a letter from Fuhrer Grumman arrived, requesting for his presence in Central Command the next day. And what do you know, Brigadier General Mustang just got promoted to Major General. (And while the Mustang-tachi celebrated, Olivier Armstrong wasn't too happy about the rank-climbing Flame Alchemist being on the same level as her now.)_

_I just wanted to write that. 8D_


	37. Transfer Orders

_WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT I'M ALIVE!  
__Gosh, I'm so sorry for the 3-month-long unannounced hiatus. I have one word to explain myself: college. A lot went on, so… yeah. But here I am, I'm aliiiive!_

_AND A GREAT BIG THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO PUT ME ON THEIR ALERT/FAVE LISTS, even though I currently suck at updating. Now, without further ado, here's a long due fic for all of you!_

_Set post-manga/Brotherhood. Spoilers for Chapter 108/Episode 64._

_

* * *

_

"Looks like you're going back to Mustang," Major General Olivier Armstrong said in her usual ice cold tone. Her eyes shifted from the military documents laid on her desk to the officer standing in front of her. "And yet another one of my men go to that… that—" she heaved an exasperated sigh, both for being unable to put her frustration with Mustang into words, and for the frustration at Mustang itself. "First Miles, now you. Who's next? Alex?"

"Uh…" He trembled at her words. For some reason, being around Major General Armstrong always seemed to make the temperature drop—if that was even possible, considering how cold it already was up in Briggs. Her intimidating presence and the wintry climate of the North did not add up to a work-conducive environment. At least not for Falman, who was so used to the warmer weather of Central and East City (and the equally warmer attitude of his previous commander).

"No, actually, I wouldn't mind if he took Alex. In fact, I'd be happy!" The lady general smirked. "That aside… you're going back to square one. If you do as well as you did during that Promised Day fiasco, then surely you won't miss the train of your career for a second time, and you won't end up scraping icicles again." She stood up and looked straight into the officer's eyes. "With intelligence like yours, you might just go places." She handed him the documents regarding his transfer. "Second Lieutenant Vato Falman, you are dismissed."

Falman snapped into a salute as the general dismissed him, and after her nodded acknowledgement, he turned on his heel and left the Ice Queen's office. As he took his last walk through the Briggs fortress, he glanced down from the icicles still forming on the ceiling (which he was feeling tempted to scrape—by force of habit, more than anything) to the transfer orders in his hands. And for the first time in weeks, Falman felt happy.

Back to square one it may be, but it's better than losing a turn.

* * *

Several heads gathered around a radio, which has emitted nothing but static buzzing. After a few tweaks of screws, adjustments of wires, and turns of the dial by a bespectacled young man however, the static buzzing turned into voices, introducing themselves as reporters from Radio Capitol. "Ah! It's fixed! Fuery, you're amazing! Thanks!" said one of the men around the radio. Others nodded to express their agreement.

As the military men went back to their work, the radio audible from their positions, a couple of officers entered their workplace, in search of the young sergeant major. Fuery stood up and held his hand to a salute. "Sergeant Major Kain Fuery, am I correct?" the officer asked, as he took out an envelope marked with the military seal.

"Yes, sir," Fuery replied. Seeing the envelope, he couldn't help smiling. He was certain he knew what was inside the envelope, but he also couldn't help asking, albeit hesitantly, "…are those transfer orders, sir?"

The officer looked slightly surprised at Fuery's inquiry, but answered him nonetheless. "Yes. You're being transferred to East Headquarters now."

_Not Central?_ Fuery wondered as he received the documents. With permission from the officer, he opened the envelope to see the contents. Upon reading his orders, Fuery smiled. "Thank you, sir!"

* * *

The bell at the front door of the store chimed, prompting a tall blond man to head to the front of the store. "Anything I can help you with, sir?" he asked coolly, an unlit cigarette dangled lazily from the side of his mouth. His welcoming smile changed into an expression of surprise upon seeing a familiar, red-haired soldier inside. "Breda!"

"Special delivery for Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc," Breda smiled, handing him an envelope. The surprise did not fade from Havoc's face. For one thing, it has been some time since he last saw his friend—the last time was after he had been summoned to Central for the Philosopher's Stone to be used to cure him. And now he's calling him a Second Lieutenant again?

"For me?" He asked, though it was pretty obvious. "What's this? I hope it's a magazine with pretty girls on it," he said half-jokingly as he opened the envelope. Seeing nothing but papers, he frowned. "Aww man, you're no fun," he snorted. Havoc took out the papers and scanned is contents. Breda only watched him amusedly.

"Wait… Seriously?" Havoc exclaimed as the contents of the documents finally sunk in to him. He read and reread the papers, unable to believe his eyes.

"Welcome back, Second Lieutenant Havoc," Breda smiled. "Hope you're better now, after your year-long sick leave."

"Seriously?"

"Didn't he say he was going to wait for you at the top? He's a couple steps closer now, so it's about time you start catching up. No reason to hold back, now that you've got your legs as good as new."

Havoc let out a hearty laugh. _Of course. "Leave no man behind" is his rule, after all._

_

* * *

_

A round of gunshots was heard from Eastern Command's firing range, where a certain dark-haired woman was doing some target practice. "Second Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina?" a familiar voice said, her voice competing with the loud sounds of gunfire. Rebecca, upon seeing the source of the voice, immediately stood up.

She made a hasty salute before lunging at the female officer who came to see her. "Rizaaa!" she cried. "It's been so long since I last saw you! How are you? Are your wounds okay now? Well, considering that you're here and you're in uniform, I suppose you're doing great! Oh, and you _are_ Riza Hawkeye after all, so of course you'd be more than okay."

Riza could only chuckle at her friend's excited reaction. "It's good to see you too, Rebecca," she smiled. "I'd love to chat, but I came here for business." Her last statement brought a small frown to the second lieutenant's face. "Well, there's someone in Central Command who's looking for a capable adjutant. Then I remembered how you were always telling me you're going to find some great guy in Central, so I told him you'd be perfect for the job. When he heard your name, he said, 'Oh, Rebecca? Yes, yes, that would be very nice.'"

Rebecca smiled. "Aww, Riza, you're such a great friend!" she said as she took out the documents from the envelope Riza handed her. Her eyes quickly ran through the words on the page, seemingly widening at each word she took in. "Huh? Wait. You're joking, right? There's got to be some mistake!"

"You asked how come I got to work for Mustang, then for the Fuhrer, so now I thought I should give you a chance at working for the Fuhrer too," Riza replied, smiling. It was one of those smiles that fell between feigned innocence and unintentional mischief.

Rebecca didn't share the same seemingly happy expression though. "Grumman? Again?" she whined. "Riza, you're so meaaaan!"

"Hmm? I thought you'd be okay working with him again, since you've worked under him before?"

"You don't know what it's like to work under him, Riza," Rebecca shook her head in mock horror, "You don't know anything."

Riza raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? He was very nice to me," she smiled. "Quite the gentleman."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Brigadier General Mustang, but that's how it is," Grumman said triumphantly. Roy was seated across him, a look of defeat on his face. The Fuhrer just won another round of chess, adding another loss to Roy's already heartbreaking statistics. "As much as I'd love to have you here in Central, someone has to take the post I vacated in East. I'm pretty sure you'll do well in Eastern Command, though, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"I… don't know what to say, sir," Roy mumbled. _Should I be thankful for being given a higher commanding position? Or should I ask to stay in Central instead? Being in Central means I'm closer to the upper brass… but being a commanding general isn't bad either!_

Grumman smiled. "Just say, 'yes, sir!', and it's all cleared. Well, either way, you're still going to be transferred there. It's for the better. You get to be a commanding general _and_ you'll be able to focus on your Ishval policies. Eastern Command is much closer there than here, after all."

"Ah, you're right about that," Roy replied thoughtfully. "If I may ask, sir… am I the only one transferring back to Eastern Command?"

"Oho, well… I've thought about it. If you transfer to East, and if you're going to work on Ishval, I'll have to give you a good set of officers for your staff," the Fuhrer presented a stack of folders to him. "I don't want to impose these people on you, so I'm leaving the evaluation of these officers in your hands."

Despite not seeing the contents of the folders yet, Roy already felt like a rock was dropped inside his stomach. The anxiety welled in him. While he had no problem dealing with subordinates, it was a fact that he hasn't worked with an entirely new staff since… probably since he started working with Hawkeye and the guys.

He sighed silently, as if hoping that he would exhale the worries along with the air. He took the folders and looked through the files wordlessly, trying to be as straight-faced as he could, to hide his possible (but not hopeful) disappointment. This was a futile attempt though, because he found in the files just what he was wishing for. The first folder belonged to Sergeant Major Kain Fuery. Seeing the sergeant's young face on the photograph on his profile brought a smile to Roy's lips. As he looked at the next few folders—Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda's, Second Lieutenant Vato Falman's, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc's—his smile grew. But as he reached for the last folder, he took in a deep breath. He already got back his pawn, rook, bishop, and knight…

"I didn't want to sign her request for a transfer at first," Grumman confessed, "But then I realized that despite being Fuhrer, there are things that are just beyond my control." Roy could've sworn he saw a twinkle in the Fuhrer's eyes (even behind those round spectacles) as he grinned.

He opened the last folder—_First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye—_and he sighed in relief. He didn't need to read any more of the contents of their folders. Just reading their names, just getting a glimpse of the faces on the photographs, just knowing it was them was enough of an evaluation for him. Closing the files, he smiled and turned back to Fuhrer Grumman.

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

In the crowded mess hall of Eastern Command, several soldiers' eyes followed Brigadier General Mustang as he hovered from table to table in search of someone he could sit with. Why a general and State Alchemist such as himself would actually choose to dine at the jam-packed cafeteria was beyond them. Nonetheless they continued to observe him as surreptitiously as they could. One soldier watched him with her full attention though, and as he noticed her eyes on him, he smiled and made his way across to her, as fast as he could in the crowded hall.

"Hello there, Lieutenant. Is this seat taken?"

Lieutenant Hawkeye smiled in response. "No, sir. Go ahead."

"You seem awfully happy today," he noted, as he set down his lunch tray and took a seat across Hawkeye. He smiled, and in his usual sarcasm—that Riza knew meant no harm or insult at all—asked, "Did something bad happen?"

"If having to deal with your paperwork again is a bad thing, then yes," Riza replied in the same tone. She chuckled at her superior's upside-down grin. "Kidding aside, I'm just glad that things are back to normal."

* * *

_**End.**__ It might not be obvious, but I tried to make a sort of… parallel between these scenarios and a certain part of the manga/Brotherhood story. :) Can you guess? :))_


	38. Baby, it's Cold Outside

**Baby, it's Cold Outside**

"Why don't you stay for a bit?" Roy asked. He was looking out the window and could see nothing but white snow against the black sky. "It's snowing really hard now."

"I think that's all the more reason I should go now, sir, before this gets worse." Riza replied as she turned to get her coat. Just earlier, there had been a Christmas dinner with their friends and colleagues. And while it was certainly a wonderful dinner, they couldn't stay as long as they wanted; the brewing storm prompted the other guests to leave earlier.

"But Hawkeye, it's really cold outside," Roy remarked, walking over to his Lieutenant. "Look at how thick the snow is. It can't get any worse than that! How about a hot drink instead, while you wait for it to pass?"

"If I wait, it _will_ just get worse," Riza said, ignoring Roy who was already getting her some hot chocolate. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and slipped into her boots. "Sorry, sir, but I might get stuck in the storm if I don't leave now. This evening was wonderful though. I'll see you at work soon. Merry Christmas." A chilly, winter breeze greeted her as she opened the door.

"You could get stuck in the storm if you _do_ leave now," the Colonel said as he handed her a steaming cup of chocolate and closed the door to stop the cold from getting in. "See how freezing it is out there?" he chuckled, offering to take her coat.

Riza sighed and took off her coat, contrary to saying, "I really can't stay, sir," as she took a sip of chocolate. Roy led her back inside to sit down on the couch. "What if your neighbours—"

"I'm just being a concerned superior, Lieutenant," he said as he sat down beside her. "If I let you go out there, you might freeze to death! Or get pneumonia," the alchemist suggested in worried tones, "and die. Either way, the guilt of letting you go out there will haunt me forever."

"That's a bit of a stretch now, isn't it?" Riza chuckled. There really was no arguing with Roy once he decides on something. She took another sip from her cup of chocolate as she glanced sideways at him. After a short silence, she smiled and remarked, "But you're right, it really is cold outside now."

Their gazes met, fingertips touched, smiles were exchanged. Placing a warm hand over her cold one, the Flame Alchemist said, "Merry Christmas, Lieutenant."

"Merry Christmas, sir," she replied just as happily.

* * *

**End.** _Probably one of my shorter fics. :) I found it rather difficult to put details here, lol. My first attempt was too wordy, and was very far from the point. XDDD Now this one is short and straight to it, I suppose. XD asdfghjkl; yeah. :))_

_Anyway._

_Happy holidays!_

_P.S. If this has been done before, I am very very very sorry :O_


	39. A Christmas Dinner and a Wedding

_Inspired by but not exactly an adaptation of Fyodor Dostoevsky's "A Christmas Tree and a Wedding"_

_Post manga/Brotherhood._

* * *

**A Christmas Dinner and a Wedding**

"What a boring, irrelevant headline," sighed General Olivier Mira Armstrong as she folded up that day's copy of The Central Times. She hadn't even finished reading half of the headline article when she threw it into the trash bin. "There must be far more pressing issues than Mustang getting hitched to his adjutant."

The female General stood from her desk and decided to make an inspection of the fortress earlier than scheduled. Despite it being spring, the Briggs Fortress was experiencing a year-long bout of winter, thanks to its location. The sight of snow and winter, coupled with her annoyance for that day's headline, reminded her of a Christmas years ago, back when Grumman was still in charge.

Fuhrer Grumman always loved hosting unnecessary (at least in Olivier's opinion) celebrations, much like the Armstrong family themselves. It was at one such party that Olivier Armstrong started to get hints of what the future would hold, especially for a certain Flame Alchemist and his second-in-command.

Olivier was not particularly fond of these parties, and if she could opt not to come, she would. (For one thing, going to such parties meant she'd have to take the trouble of finding a suitable outfit that wasn't too feminine for her taste yet not too stiff for the occasion.) Unfortunately for her, that particular Christmas dinner had her presence directly requested by the Fuhrer himself, and in thoughts of making a good impression (or a _better_ impression, at that), she grudgingly obliged.

Unlike the other guests, Olivier did not make it a point to socialize, and mostly spoke only when spoken to. That did not happen much though, as most of the people present already knew her, being the eldest among the Armstrong siblings. Another thing was that she still appeared intimidating even though she was not in her uniform.

Olivier was grateful for this 'peace' and spent most of her evening observing other guests and looking at Grumman's vast display of figurines, statuettes, paintings, and photographs, the latter of which interested her the most. It was not really because she was fond of photography—it was more because pictures, after all, were said to paint a thousand words, and honestly, she knew very little about the Fuhrer. Taking a glimpse of the photographs he had may be a way to actually know more about him.

While looking over an assortment of picture frames standing on a table in the parlour, Olivier couldn't help noticing one particularly old photograph of a family, whom she assumed to be Grumman's. It was placed behind several other picture frames, obscuring most of it from view.

With the little that she could see, there were only three people in the photograph: a girl in her teens, and her parents. The father, wearing a military uniform, was immediately recognized by Olivier as Fuhrer Grumman in his younger days. She assumed that the other two must be his wife and daughter.

Now that she thought about it, Grumman never talked about his family. This discretion drove the eldest Armstrong daughter further into curiosity. Where could his wife and daughter be? Grumman doesn't seem to be a bad family man (despite allegations of DOM tendencies from a few female officers), and he could obviously provide more than enough for his family, so them leaving him did not seem to fit as an explanation.

There was only one other explanation Olivier could think of—they were dead. Or at least the wife was, and the daughter must've gotten married. "She looks oddly familiar…" Olivier muttered to herself as she looked closer at Grumman's daughter in the photograph. Familiar indeed, she thought, noticing the girl's long blonde hair and the unusual side-swept fringe.

There was only one person she could think of.

And then it hit her. Grumman's daughter looked like what Riza Hawkeye would've been back in her teens. Olivier turned to find the woman in question (it wasn't difficult; she just had to look for "Mustang's ugly head"), and her thoughts were confirmed. Hawkeye _did_ bear an uncanny resemblance to the young girl in the photograph.

The only thing Olivier could think of to explain their similarity was that Grumman's daughter was Hawkeye's mother. And if that was the case, then Riza Hawkeye would be the General's granddaughter. It made some sense, but of course, without records, she could never really know for sure.

Olivier was snapped out of her thoughts when several of Grumman's servants announced that dinner was ready to be served. Being one of the highest ranking officials in the military (second only to the Fuhrer himself, with Mustang coming closely behind her), she was given a seat near the table's capital. Upon further observation, Olivier noted that the seating at the table was arranged according to military rank, their degree of closeness to the Fuhrer. That was why when Major General Mustang sat at the table (accompanied by now Major Riza Hawkeye), Olivier knew something was up.

Of course, Hawkeye was a very capable soldier, and deserved every promotion that she ever had (or even more—unlike her superior). Olivier was rather fond of her because of her abilities. However, she felt that perhaps if Hawkeye hadn't stuck with Mustang for so long, she could've gotten herself higher up on the ladder, but it was precisely this that made Olivier wonder how Hawkeye was given a seat amongst the Generals.

She was just a Major—the same rank as a normal State Alchemist (like her brother Alex Louis Armstrong). It could've been negligible if she were, say, a Colonel, but a Major? That was already a bit far down the chain of command.

Perhaps Mustang asked for a favour. After all, the Fuhrer had been his mentor in the past… But then of course there was the possibility that Riza Hawkeye really was the Fuhrer President Grumman's granddaughter.

_If she really were the Fuhrer's granddaughter, what perks would there be for marrying her? –Not that Hawkeye is only worth her dowry, but we're talking about an ambitious man here—Firstly, she could have a large dowry with both money and property to her name. Secondly, like those cheap radio dramas, perhaps Mustang would receive a reward for… taking care of Grumman's sole surviving family member, in the form of her hand in marriage, or a personal debt of kindness or favour. Since this is a military setting, perhaps favour on promotions. Or both. _

Olivier had been contemplating throughout dinner. She stole glances at the two, who were acting rather normally, in a way that wouldn't raise any of the suspicions Olivier had been thinking of._ Then of course, there's the third option: he really does love the girl._ But Olivier cannot be satisfied with mere presumptions and hypotheses, and thus decided to get an answer out of Mustang herself.

Luckily, she spotted him alone (Hawkeye had gone to the powder room with Rebecca Catalina, Fuhrer Grumman's secretary and Hawkeye's close friend). The Flame Alchemist was looking over several bottles of wine that had been served for the guests. In the guise of getting herself a glass, Olivier walked over to him.

The Ishbal Hero noticed her presence and thereby averted his gaze towards the so-called Northern Wall of Briggs. "Why hello there, Lieutenant General Armstrong," he smiled. "Enjoying the evening so far?"

"Perhaps," she replied ambiguously, not even bothering to look at the younger general. "You seem like you're having fun though. First time at an event like this, I see."

"For someone who's spent nearly half his career in the eastern countryside, yes."

"But you were born in Central, weren't you?" She wanted to say, but decided against it and kept silent instead.

"Though surely that's no excuse; you came here from Briggs?" Roy asked in hopes of keeping the conversation, noticing that Olivier had grown silent. Despite the lack of a reply, the alchemist nodded. "Right. Well… uh. I see you don't have your sword by your side tonight," he observed as he looked her over. "Oh, but your heels appear to be able to compensate," he then joked, chuckling to himself.

She wanted to snap back a witty reply, but Olivier chose to simply roll her eyes in reply. Silence fell between them soon enough, and assuming Mustang had run out of things to say (and irk her), she decided to start a new conversation, this time in her favour. "Has Fuhrer Grumman told you anything about his family?"

Mustang seemed a bit taken aback by the question, but quickly regained his composure, reminding himself that this was the Armstrong that was always straightforward and saw no point in beating around the bush. "Well, yes. Though he didn't say much. He had a wife and a daughter," he said. Useless information, in Olivier's opinion. "Oh, and a granddaughter." At the mention of granddaughter, the Flame Alchemist looked as if he were recalling a fond memory.

"Have you met her?"

Mustang shook his head. "Unfortunately, I haven't. Strange though, because the Fuhrer acts like I know her, and even offered her hand in marriage." He shared, wearing a grin.

True enough though, he did manage to accept Grumman's offer years later. That was after both Mustang and Hawkeye were told of the latter's relation to the General and after the Frat Law was reviewed.

xxx

THE CENTRAL TIMES

**Fuhrer President Ties The Knot**

Fuhrer President Roy Mustang, initially known at the beginning of his term as the first bachelor Fuhrer of Amestris, said his marriage vows yesterday, 11 June 1920. The otherwise private ceremony was held at Central Command Center's parade grounds, witnessed by a select group consisting mostly of the First Couple's immediate family, friends, and comrades.

In an earlier interview, Fuhrer Mustang has expressly stated that he and his then-bride-to-be, former Presidential Secretary Major Riza Hawkeye, wanted the ceremony to be "simple and personal, despite [them] being public figures."

The announcement of their marriage gave rise to several issues regarding their past relationship with each other, one of which was of a 'forbidden romance' story between them. The two openly admitted that they knew each other longer than anyone else they know, but denied that they have been carrying on a romance even in the earlier years of their military career.

"There was the [Anti-Fraternization] Law, of course. But really, at that time, it seemed more like the case of 'I didn't know she was the one' because of several factors. . . I used to think that as her superior, wanting to protect her stemmed from feelings of responsibility. That, coupled with an almost-brotherly protectiveness I had as a childhood friend, so I naturally felt inclined to protect and care for her. I think it's safe to say she was in a similar situation," the Fuhrer stated in a pre-wedding press conference.

xxx

"What a boring, irrelevant headline," sighed General Olivier Mira Armstrong as she folded up that day's copy of The Central Times. She hadn't even finished reading half of the headline article when she threw it into the trash bin. "There must be far more pressing issues than Mustang getting hitched to his adjutant."

* * *

**End.**

_I think it's kinda bittersweet, this little fic. Livvy's pissed, but Royai gets their happy ending. XD (I think, personally, that Livvy would be pissed just by the mere fact that Roy's getting everything he wants and she, a powerful Armstrong, can't. Cuz Buccaneer's dead and—at least in fanfiction—Roy's Fuhrer. XD) (Oh, lol, is it obvious that I also support Oliveer? XD)_

_I guess that (bittersweet) was what I felt when I read the synopsis of Dostoevsky's story. XD_

_It's a bit late for Christmas, but technically, by the Catholic calendar, it's still the Christmas season, so… Happy Christmas! And a Happy New Year! :)_

_Thanks, __**overtlycovert**__ for beta-ing this! And thank you for your kind words and praise. 8D YOU, are also brilliant!_

_Thank you also to those who still read the stories and those who added me to their lists and to those who reviewed (and WILL review, hopefully. XD) I've had a great 2010. I hope you guys have, too! Happy New Year!_


	40. Speak Now

It must be obvious by now how big a fan of Taylor Swift I am. :))

Set post manga/Brotherhood. Implied spoilers…? XDDDD

* * *

**Speak Now**

Riza was sure she wasn't the type of person who would come to an event unannounced. She was also certain that she wasn't the type to go and disturb something as intimate as a wedding. But there she was, sneaking into a room in the city hall, in a dress, at a wedding which she wasn't even invited to.

Roy was not one of those people who do things without preparing for them first either. He wasn't the type who'd rush decisions, especially if it were life-changing and permanent; much like his getting married. But there he was, the ladies' man that he is, at the front of the room in a tuxedo, waiting for his "bride."

Seated near the front were some of Roy's friends (why she wasn't invited and considered a part of that group remained a mystery to her) as well as several strangers who she assumed were the family of the bride-to-be. In fear of causing a scene, Riza sat down at the back corner of the room and tried to stay as invisible as she could. It wasn't too difficult, she soon realized, as everyone appeared either too busy, too tense, or too excited about the occasion to pay any attention to her.

After a moment, the organ player struck up the wedding march, but it sounded more like a death march to Riza's ears. A feeling of dread welled up inside her, and she suddenly felt the need to leave the room and run away. But no matter how hard she willed herself to move, she couldn't. She was stuck on her seat, as though there was an invisible harness keeping her secured on that very spot. Just then, the idea that she could leave without taking (or rather, _saving_) Roy came to her.

Riza tried to catch Roy's eye in hopes of delivering a message through her gaze, but to no avail. Like him, everyone else was captivated with the bride, who was already walking down the aisle. Riza couldn't help comparing her to a puffy white pastry; puffy skirt and puffy sleeves with a puffy veil—she looked like a life-sized, walking cream puff. Or whipped cream, for that matter. But who she really was, Riza didn't know; the veil was covering her face, and everyone other than Roy looked hazy.

"Today, we witness the union of Roy Mustang and…" the marriage officiant's voice faded away as soon as it began, and the ceremony soon took place. While everyone looked happy, Roy didn't seem too enthusiastic. His face said he wanted to get it all over with—or rather, he didn't want to go through with it at all. He had his back turned to Riza now, and she realized that it wasn't until that moment that watching his back has become such a painful and difficult task. She wanted more than anything else in the world for him to turn around, but it wasn't until the officiant said "speak now" that he did.

"If any person here can tell me why these two people should not be joined in marriage," the officiant said, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace." Silence fell upon everyone. Riza looked up to the couple at the end of the aisle. Roy was looking at her, with a look as though he were pleading her to save him from his current predicament. Riza took a deep breath. This was her last chance. Gathering up all her courage, she stood up.

The guests turned to her with horrified looks. The bride was enraged, but Roy's face lit up. She said no words, but the message was clear to him. The people faded around them as they ran out of the city hall.

Roy turned to her and smiled. "We're in Resembool now, Lieutenant," he said.

"Huh?" Riza mumbled groggily. Roy's slicked back hair reverted back to its everyday mess, and his white tuxedo turned back into his three-piece suit.

"Lieutenant," Roy called gently as he tapped Riza's shoulder. "We're here."

Riza opened her eyes slowly and looked around. She was no longer in the "city hall"—she was back in the train. And true enough, they were pulling in to Resembool station, and several other passengers (some of whom she knew were also guests at Edward and Winry's wedding) were already preparing to disembark.

"Had a good nap?" Roy asked casually as they gathered up their belongings. The train was slowing to a stop.

Riza nodded, letting a small smile creep up to her lips. After a slight hesitation, she then began, "I dreamt of a wedding." At this Roy turned and looked at her, as if prompting her to continue. "It wasn't Edward's though. It was… rather strange, really." She chuckled.

"Whose wedding was it then?" Roy asked as they got off the train and onto the platform. "And why was it strange?"

"It appeared to be _your_ wedding, sir," Riza replied. At that revelation, the two officers stopped in their tracks. "I wasn't invited," Riza then said seriously with a hint of indignation that even Roy couldn't have missed. She looked straight into Roy's eyes.

The Flame Alchemist scratched the back of his head. "I… that certainly wouldn't be my doing," he said nervously. "I wouldn't dare not invite you—if I get married to someone else, that is…" he mumbled, mostly to himself, but Riza was too sharp not to miss it. Her expression softened at the remark.

"I guess that's why when they said, 'speak now', I barged in and stopped the wedding before it was too late." Riza chuckled at herself. "Really strange."

"What a nightmare," Roy said as their laughter died down. "Me getting married… to someone I don't even know, I mean." The two resumed their walk into the station as a silence fell between them. It was brief, though, as Roy spoke again, "If that does happen in the future, would you do what you did in your dream, Lieutenant?"

"Of course I would, sir," Riza immediately replied. Then she fell silent just as fast when her words sunk into her. "I mean, if I knew it wasn't the right time, or the right person for you. And if you order me to, at least," she added in a mumble, mentally scolding herself for sounding like she was making excuses.

"Well in that case…" Roy smiled as he trailed off. "…besides watching my back, you'll have to make sure I get married to the right girl, too," he joked as he walked on ahead of her.

"Are you sure, sir? Because I have high standards," Riza played along, quickening her pace to catch up with the alchemist.

Roy glanced at his Lieutenant as she fell into pace with him and smiled. "Oh, I'm sure she'll pass," he said confidently, and as their gazes met, he added, "with flying colors."

* * *

**Fin.**

_I'm sort of satisfied with the ending. XD I might play around with this someday. :)) (It depends if my plotbunny comes back. LOL)_

_Thanks, __**overtlycovert**__! :D Siriusly, I love how you always change the words "seriously" into "siriusly" when beta-ing my fics. It just makes me laugh, all the time. (/says last sentence in Harry's "I just feel so angry _all the time_" voice from HP5 –wow, that's long XD)_

_Also, a big great THANK YOU to all of you guys for still reading! 8D Thank you to those who added me/this story to their favourites!_

_And hey. "Speak now"! Review please? XD_


	41. Orange Lilies

**Orange Lilies**

Riza woke at the sound of the nurse and the doctor entering her hospital room. It was another one of her daily check-ups, often beginning with a greeting of 'how are you feeling?' which Riza always answered honestly.

For a moment, she was surprised at how quiet the hospital room was that day. Just last night, there had been a small celebration (which was fortunately allowed, with the doctor's permission) because Colonel Mustang, with whom she shared the room, successfully returned from the Gate with his vision back, so now there was no longer any reason to hold him inside the hospital. He was discharged that evening, bringing with him the mountains of books on Ishbal he asked for, as well as his crowd of readers—Breda, Falman, and Fuery.

Although she was grateful for the peace, Riza had to admit that she missed the noisy yet oddly comforting chatter of her comrades. The hospital room now looked too large and empty without them around, and Riza longed to get out.

The doctor reassured her that because of her steady recovery, she'd probably be discharged by the end of the week. While pleased with the good news, Riza couldn't help wishing for the weekend to come sooner, or at least for her to recover faster, if that were even possible.

Silence once again filled the room when the doctor and the nurse left. It was then that she noticed a vase of flowers set on the table beside her bed. Riza inspected the bouquet to see who sent it, but alas, there was no card attached.

Riza was no expert on flowers—she doesn't have a garden or even a vase or a pot to put flowers in back home—but she was quite familiar with how the different varieties looked like, and even a little of what they meant. And thanks to history, she knew that flowers were used to convey certain messages too. Riza sat up to think, matching the flowers with their meanings, in hopes of "hearing" what they were trying to say, and to discover the identity of their sender as well.

There was an assortment of peonies, from light pink Raspberry Sundaes to lush Imperial Reds. Peonies most often meant good health, which was quite fitting, as Riza noted, to be sent to her. There were also a handful of white roses—a symbol of purity and secrecy. Whoever sent her the flowers then was probably wishing for her speedy recovery, but didn't want her to find out who he (or was it she?) was.

But then again, this wasn't the first time she had mysteriously received flowers—with a white rose too. Turning her gaze back to the flowers, Riza noticed a single orange lily at the center of the bouquet.

Riza's eyebrows furrowed. Orange lilies often meant hatred or disdain. So does that mean that someone who hates her sent her flowers, wishing her to feel better? That surely didn't make sense. Why would someone send flowers to a person they hate? Why go through all the trouble? And why waste the money?

For one thing, Riza was unaware of any possible enemies she may have made. After all, she was just doing her job; if there were, they would most likely be homunculi, but they're all dead now (save for Selim, but it seems that now he is more human than monster). And another thing, she could barely think of anyone who liked sending people flowers—and attaching particular meanings to them too.

The exception would probably be her so-called "favourite florist". Riza smiled at the thought. It made sense! Although she technically didn't have a favourite florist, there was no other person who could be a "master" of flowers, which Riza considered to be masters of wordplay themselves.

There was only one person that she could think of. After all, there would probably be no other person who would use an orange lily not to express hatred, but to give out his identity. It was very probable that it was him. And assuming it really was _him_, she let thoughts about the flower sender slip her mind and focused instead on her getting better.

The days passed slowly without the noisy company of her fellow soldiers, yet despite rare visits during her last few days in the hospital, Riza no longer felt the weight of the silence and the emptiness of the room. Time was slow, yes, but a couple of good books and a fresh vase of flowers always accompanied her each day of her recovery, and as predicted, she was out of the hospital by the end of the week.

With the wounds and scars healed, worked resumed as per usual. She found herself (along with other colleagues Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery) working again for the Flame Alchemist, much to their relief and joy.

"Thank you for the flowers, sir," she said, when the two of them were the only ones left in the office, "it was very thoughtful of you." She gave him one of those rare, genuine smiles. Roy replied with a small smile followed by a quizzical look, teasing, as if he didn't know what she was talking about, but Riza wasn't fooled. "You really didn't have to send me new ones each day, you know," she then said, quickly adding, "but I appreciate it." Her smile remained unfading.

Taking down his innocent/ignorant facade, Roy said thoughtfully, "I remember you said that you didn't have any pots or vases, so I took the liberty of putting them in vases for you." Just then, he bent down to get something underneath his desk, and as he stood, the glimpse of the object made Riza sigh in light exasperation and at the same time, smile at the man's thoughtfulness (and probably even reckless flattery). "But now I think you have too many vases, so I guess now I'll have to send bouquets instead," he chuckled at her expression.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant," he smiled as he held out a bright bouquet of flowers to her. She took them hesitantly, unsure of how professional or proper their actions were at the moment, and also wary of how she'd stand out if she were to walk out of headquarters carrying a bouquet.

But it was a beautiful bouquet-just as beautiful as all the other ones she had received whilst at the hospital-and it was a shame not to accept them. There were irises, meaning faith and hope, as well as an expression of an important friendship; daisies of innocence and loyal love; pink carnations expressed gratitude; and lastly, a couple of familiar orange lilies.

Riza smiled as she plucked out a pink carnation from the bouquet. The two shared a gaze as she gave the blossom to him as a simple statement of her gratitude for his efforts, concern, and thoughtfulness. "That was also very clever of you, sir," she said as they left the office, "to use the orange lily instead of just saying it was you."

The Flame Alchemist grinned, proud of his work. Indeed, it really was a clever trick t0 use the irony of hiding his popular alias behind an unpopular meaning of a flower, because besides hatred and disdain, an orange lily also meant "flame".

* * *

_**Happy Valentine's Day! **_

_Okay, so this isn't exactly a "Valentine's" themed one-shot, but… yeah. It's got the elements. The flowers, I mean. XD Okay, fine, I'm just making up excuses because I can't finish my V-day fic on time. Really.__ But I think this could suffice in the meantime!...? XD_

_**Spread the love! Review! :)**_


	42. Hidden feelings

**_90: Hidden expressions/hidden feelings  
_**

"Fuery, you're a genius!" Havoc exclaimed as the bespectacled sergeant major finished fixing another one of HQ's broken radios. Breda argued that this was Fuery they were talking about after all, and that this was his job, so it was natural for the sergeant to do it well. Fuery did his usual display of modesty, while Falman turned the radio dial in search of a good signal. The blond second lieutenant stopped before even beginning his counterargument when he heard a familiar tune from one of the stations Falman had just passed through. "Yeah, well—hey, put it back to that station!"

"_Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends,_" a pop-rockish tune drifted along the airwaves. "_So take it easy on me, I'm afraid you're never satisfied."_

"I love this song! It's my current favorite!" Havoc declared enthusiastically, implying he didn't want anyone to change the station—or worse, turn off the radio—while it was playing. "_No, I won't sleep tonight—oh, oh, I want some more, oh, oh, what are you waiting for? Take a bite of my heart tonight,"_ he sang as he went to sit back down at his desk.

Roy Mustang, now a Brigadier General, tried his best to bite back a laugh while he watched his subordinates. Some things never do change; they were still as rowdy, noisy, and strangely entertaining as always. Now that he thought about it—their noise, that is—he turned his attention to his adjutant. Everyone knew how she was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the racket Havoc and the others are causing, Roy was sure they'd hear a word (or two, or more) from Hawkeye.

He threw a quick glance at the lieutenant, and to his surprise, she didn't look angry as he expected. In fact, she had a small smile on her face as she too watched Havoc's mini-concert, and the other three's slow conversion into liking the song as well. Riza seemed to tolerate the madness at the moment, and simply shook her head—smile unfading—and resumed working on the documents in front of her.

"_Oh, oh, I want some more, oh, oh, what are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? Say goodbye to my heart tonight."_

Roy tried to face his paperwork again, but found himself unable to even write a single word, let alone sign his name. The music was playing loudly in the background, the words were forming in his mind, and soon he was tapping his foot to the beat; he was distracted. For some reason, the song was appealing to him. Not just the tune, or the beat, or any of the musical qualities of it, but there was something that just caught him and made him want to listen to more.

Maybe it was the "I want some more" lyric.

"You know why I like this song?" Havoc's voice seemed to cut through the melody, snapping Roy out of his thoughts. "It's got a nice message. I mean, you don't get it at first, but I think it's basically about how two people have hidden feelings for each other, they've never acted on these feelings, and one of them wants to know if the other feels the same way. Because the other person isn't saying a thing, the person singing is sort of… being eaten alive by it—not knowing, wanting to know, the feelings, pretending not to have those feelings, whatever. But in the end the person just wants the other one to 'take a bite of his heart,' like acknowledge the feelings or give the relationship a try or something." He nodded, convinced of his own interpretation.

"In short, this is your life story," Breda joked.

"But it's a pretty good analysis," Falman interjected before any argument ensued.

All the while, Roy listened to their exchange. And somehow, he understood where Havoc got all of that. He was making perfect sense! Heck, he might not be the smartest one in the bunch, but he's probably the one with the most heart. Must be from all those girlfriends (or the lack of a long-time one, at that).

"_Hush, hush, the world is quiet. Hush, hush, we both can't fight it. It's us that made this mess. Why can't you understand?"_

_It's not just Havoc's life story_, he thought, _it's probably everyone's story. It could be mine too, for all I know._ Unconsciously he glanced at the lieutenant's direction. He felt—and possibly even heard—something pounding—whether it was the drums or his heart, he couldn't tell—and the first lines of the song echoed in his mind, as if they were his own words to the current object of his gaze. _Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends._

"_Oh, oh, I want some more. Oh, oh, what are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? What are you waiting…"_

_Here we go again_. His gaze was still locked onto the blonde female , he had been mouthing the lyrics, and she had been watching him the entire time. _Here we go again_. It was only when she chuckled that he realized what he had been doing. And it was only then that it occurred to him how silly he must have looked. Roy smiled sheepishly and pretended to work on his papers, but was failing miserably. _Here we go again_.

The song soon ended, much to Havoc's dismay, and the radio had been turned off after futile attempts at finding another station worth listening to (for Havoc that meant it was playing his new favorite song). Work resumed again, and peace and quiet finally came over the entire office. But the song didn't just come and go; it seemed to have lasted longer than its 3-minute air time. And the realization and meaning it brought along with it seemed to last even longer than that too.

That was what Roy realized as he turned to his new stack of paperwork, the one that was just brought by Riza by the end of the song. Scanning through one of the documents, a small note, written in an all-too-familiar hand, fell onto his lap.

_Oh, oh, I want some more  
__Oh, oh, what are you waiting for?  
__What are you waiting for?  
__Take a bite of my heart tonight._

* * *

**End.**

_Based from the song, "Animal" by Neon Trees. :)_

_Thanks to cocostar613 and lilmeenie from —if it weren't for their interpretations, I might've lost hope for this fic. XD_

_And thank _you_ too, for reading! :D_


	43. Christmas Waltz

**The Christmas Waltz**

The radio on their bedside hummed a soft tune, allowing the two to relax. It was Christmas Day, and Amestris was at peace, putting aside everything else for the holidays.

Hawkeye smiled as she glanced over to the gifts brought to them earlier by some friends and colleagues. There were packages of varying sizes, wrapped in all sorts of colorful paper and ribbons. These were sitting around a pot of poinsettias, the only indication of the season in the room. Various postcards have been stuck in between the flowers, sent by friends from other areas of Amestris, greeting them a 'Merry Christmas' and wishing for their speedy recovery.

"On to our last song for this program," the radio announcer said. "From everyone at Capitol Radio, we hope you all have a happy Christmas!" The announcer signed off, and soon a waltz filled the airwaves.

_Frosted windowpanes,  
__Candles gleaming inside,  
__Painted candy canes on the tree._

_Santa's on his way,  
__He's filled his sleigh with things,  
__Things for you and for me._

"Hawkeye," the Lieutenant turned to her side, towards the owner of the voice that had called her. He had his hand outstretched towards her, a smile lighting up his face. "May I?"

She only looked at him, hesitating because she knew that though they were both in the hospital and were officially on leave, they were still under the military's gaze, and any inappropriate action would surely have consequences.

But with a sigh and a smile, she took the Flame Alchemist's hand and helped him to his feet. Gently placing his one hand on her waist, she took the first step to pull them both into a slow waltz. "Only because it's Christmas, sir," she smiled, though knowing he couldn't see it.

"You really are very kind, Hawkeye," the Colonel replied, falling into the waltz quickly. He gave her hand a little squeeze and smiled gratefully. "This might be my favorite present this year."

Grinning too, a nurse closed the door quietly, deciding to give the two this time for themselves. It _is_ Christmas, after all. The check-up can wait till tomorrow, she thought.

Because _it's the time of year when the world falls in love,  
__Every song you hear seems to say, "Merry Christmas,  
__May your New Year's dreams come true."  
_

_And this song of mine, in three-quarter time,  
__Wishes you and yours the same thing, too._

* * *

_**Merry Christmas!**_

_Wow, it's been a while since I last posted, huh. As always. ^_^;_

_I'm actually not entirely satisfied with how I've written this, given the fact that I haven't been writing fanfiction for months now (and that I've grown too used to writing news articles—all straight to the point and no fancy, flowery stuff and all). Le sigh. _

_Anyway, I hope you guys like this, even if it _is_ quite short (and consequently quite crappy). Also, I'm pretty certain that Roy and Riza wouldn't have stayed confined in the hospital all the way until Christmas. (And that there really is no such thing as Christmas in the FMA universe.) It's just that I thought this scene would be really cute if I were to set it here. So… just pretend this all fits perfectly into the canon. Haha! Suspension of disbelief? XD_

_Again, happy holidays!_

_Oh, since it's Christmas… I'd love to have a little present too, you know. ;) Review?_


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